Uncertainty
by TheGodmother2
Summary: They have never been certain about each other even as they peel pounds of flesh from each other's bones. Walt and Vic pairing. *Complete*
1. Chapter 1

**_Authors Note_**

 ** _I'm back. With rules in place. I will not be able to update as frequently so I'm offering fair warning now. Be PATIENT. I highly suspect this will be a multi-chapter story to rival "Mr. Longmire Takes a Vacation", so if you are going to commit do so now. (insert smile and a laugh) There will be lots of ups and downs and since I don't know where this story is headed (like I ever do, come on) I at least hope to make it enjoyable. Of course, I would like to graciously thank all of you for reading and for reviewing. Just so you know, reviews are the life blood of inspiration. You, the reader, are cherished._**

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"What are you waiting for, Vic?"

She rolls her mahogany eyes in silent contempt for him, for the task at hand, for the entire situation in Absaroka County.

"We only got one more."

He says as a sort of reassurance but he doesn't sound convincing not even to himself. She walks past him with her hand looped through the prisoner's v-shaped elbow. She doesn't even look at him anymore. That's the part that cuts the deepest he thinks as she strides past him refusing to acknowledge his existence.

Ferg starts up the yellow county school district bus. His open palm rests on the extended shifter perched from the floorboard. Leaning forward he waits for Vic to load the last prisoner. After she sits him down, she takes her seat opposite him in the front row. Walt sits directly behind Ferg, his long legs stretch out and extend past the seat blocking the aisle, his back presses against the cool metal framed glass. He drinks in the sight of her twisted mouth and sharp profile as she looks ahead through the oversized window into the dead of night. Ferg closes the double doors, eases the clutch, and shifts through three gears until they hit the highway then upshifts through to fifth gear.

"When did you get a license to drive this thing, Ferg?" She asks.

"About eight years ago when I started volunteering as a coach for the wrestling team."

"Wrestling?"

"Yeah." He smiles thinking of the good times and not the pictures flashing through Vic's mind of him fashioning a wrestling onesie.

"Ferg was all-state." Walt says.

She ignores him, looks out of her window, and remains silent the entire ride to the main county lock-up. They process the prisoners from the warrant sting. The drive back to the school is quiet with only the creaks and moans from the metallic shocks and gears keeping them company. Ferg decided months ago that he would not take sides and he does a great job of staying out of whatever it is that is going or not going on between them. At the schoolyard he pulls into the dedicated space for the bus. He opens the doors and shuts down the engine after recording the mileage.

"Walt, I'm going to head back to the station and finish up the paperwork from tonight. It won't take me too long." Ferg says.

"I can help, Ferg." Vic says as she steps down and into the parking lot turning around with her hands in her back pockets.

Walt turns the two steps into one with his long legs and lands just inches from Vic. Her dismissal of him is so complete she doesn't step aside. You see, for her, he simply does not exist.

"Thanks, Vic, I appreciate it."

Walt absorbs her disdain and moves aside, "Ah, Ferg, I need to talk to Vic about something first so I'll just drop her off if you want to go ahead."

Ferg passes them both and offers a closed lip smile, "Sure thing. See you in a bit." He fires up the Trans Am and rumbles past them. Vic turns her head down and toward the blacktop her disinterest evident.

"Vic." His voice quiet and deep, "Can I talk to you for a few minutes?"

"I don't know, can you?"

"May I talk to you?" He is desperate to be back in her game.

"What do you want, Walt?" She asks with her arms folded across her chest, the leather sleeves keeping her warm in the crisp night air.

"You."

"What did you say?" Her forehead wrinkles.

He reaches out and touches her hand and looks at her so she won't misunderstand him anymore as he pulls her toward him, "You heard me."

His lips descend before she can blink her eyes and he hovers just above her as if he thought it rude to just kiss her without either warning or permission. He can see and feel her face redden as her eyes grow big. He leans in just a little more silently asking and she answers by meeting him half-way. Their lips touch gently at first neither one of them wanting to disappoint or be disappointed by what they have imagined for so long. He closes his eyes and for an instant he feels his jealousy of Sean and Eamon pound through his veins but it's diminished by her tugging his shoulders and his arms unconsciously pulling her into him.

Just as quickly, their kiss deepens, and then it takes a life of its own becoming nearly frenetic with loud groans and hands and spit. He's the first to stop but it is not because he wants to and it's not because he's out of breath it's because his heart is beating so fast it jolts him. Her eyes search his looking for the reason he pulled back and he can see the fear and maybe the insecurity as to why he stopped and he answers her before she asks.

"Feel this."

He puts her hand over his heart and she can feel it beat nearly out of his chest and she looks at the vein traversing his neck and can see how plump it is even in the black night and her deviant smile permeates her face as she enjoys the distinct satisfaction of knowing and understanding her power. She's always had it. She just never knew it. She moves her hands around the thickness of his waist and she rests her head against his chest listening to his heart settle and deciding right there in the school parking lot sandwiched between the school bus and the Bronco that this is where she will reside for the rest of her life. She's finally arrived at her destination of this she is sure and it scares her.

"I don't want to overthink this." He says into the top of her head.

"Then don't."

"There's so much at stake." He says between the two kisses he places on her hair.

Her hot breath filters through to the skin covering his heart. "There always has been."

They hold each other, the heat becoming obvious, but so comfortable and inviting. She breaks his hold, "Ferg is going to get worried."

He nods his head acknowledging her and he opens the Bronco door for her. She jumps in the seat as she has done throughout the years but this time he stands perched between the seat and the door. He takes off his King Ropes baseball hat and smooths back his matted hair slinging his hat onto the dash so naturally she thinks it must be out of habit because they have never been here, in this place, together. There's no precedent for this.

Walt stands there deciding the new boundaries and configuration of them when she reaches out and pulls three fingers around the edge of his eyebrow, past his sideburn, and down toward his lips and somewhere along the way his eyes close to her touch. His body relaxes into her and he falls forward kissing her again and this time it is controlled, purposeful and full of thought. All of the thoughts he's held inside that have blossomed and grown since the day she stormed into his life and he can't hold them back as they flood through without restraint.

She turns part way through their kiss and his hands snake around her as her legs ceremoniously open and he wraps them around his waist. He groans with each stroke of her fingertips and he knows they have to stop but he doesn't want to, not now, not after waiting so long for this moment.

"Walt" She says into his mouth, "We have to get back."

His eyes are glistening and he stares at her like a mortar round just went off and he's lost his hearing. He nods his head and before he steps back he leans in just a little more, turns his head, bends his knees just a bit sliding his hand down the front of his jeans tamping down the erection inside of his pants and kisses her cheek before slamming her door shut.

He steps up into the driver's seat, leans over and pulls on the baseball cap, creasing the bill to ensure it maintains its inverted U-shape, and heads toward the highway.

About a half a mile toward town he looks over at her silhouette. He's not searching for words and he does not doubt where they are now. He's just looking. His eyes go back to the road and he feels her tug his sleeve and his hand comes down, backside against the grainy leather, and she fills his palm with hers. They stay that way all the way into town. Not a word passes between them because it's not necessary. You see, they have been here before, in their dreams.


	2. Chapter 2

The cab of the Bronco is quiet except for the distinctive ticking from the hot engine block. They sit parked in front of the station, their hands still pressed together.

He looks at her, "I'm not sure what to say."

"Me, neither."

"It's not that I don't have anything to say."

"I, ummm, I'm thinking we should talk about some things if you want to." He says because he thinks he should.

"There's a lot, Walt, ummm, I'm sure."

Vic's thoughts are bouncing all over not keeping up with the quasi conversation they are not having. She breaks his stare for a moment, looks through his black eyes, "But maybe not here." Her eyebrows scrunch together. Her voice is desperately feminine on refrain. His lips part with a small smile at the obvious and gentle suggestion that they talk in more ideal surroundings. He looks down at their pressed palms.

"Tonight?" He asks.

"Tonight?"

"Too soon?"

She pauses, "I've wasted enough time, Vic."

"Why, now?"

"I couldn't make it another day without letting you know exactly how I feel about you."

"Let's talk this weekend."

"I don't know if I can wait that long."

"I've waited years you can wait two days."

"Point taken."

"Besides if we see each other tonight we will just end up in bed."

He squeezes her hand, "That's bad?" He says all warm and flirtatious.

She squeezes back with equal measure, "I guess I'll find out."

"Ouch." He says with a full smile.

"I better go."

"Ferg's waiting on us." He says.

"Us?"

"Yup"

He picks up their hands and gently presses his lips against her knuckles. She hops out and meets him on the sidewalk and he opens the station door for her allowing her to pass through. His hand glances the small of her back. He's been doing that for years, well, at least before the lost year. That's what he calls it when he thinks about it and he thinks about it nearly every waking moment of every single day. He fights to stay here, in this place, and this time with her. His eyes capture the swing of her hips. He takes the last three steps with a long stretch passing her on the landing as his fingers skirt along her hip.

"Hey Sheriff, I didn't expect you back."

"Where do you want me to start?" She asks knowing they didn't work out an alibi though she's not sure one is needed. Walt walks straight through to his office only flashing his eyebrows in response and closes the door.

"Gosh, Vic, did you piss in his Cheerios, again?" He asks exasperated with the last 378 days of their collective lives.

"No." She rolls her eyes.

She picks up the short stack of field interview cards and begins matching them to the awaiting reports and abruptly her hands begin to shake. It's not pronounced and it's not noticeable unless you were staring but she sees it and she feels it. The rush of adrenaline runs rampant through her limbs when suddenly the reverberating panic of their unforeseen expressions begins to overwhelm her.

"What the fuck?" She says to herself the words whirling, "What the fuck did you just do?"

Vic tucks her hands into her lap and glances up at Ferg whose eyes are attentively drawn to the paperwork before him. He's oblivious, she thinks, but she's not certain because Ferg, if nothing else, is full of surprises. Ferg gets back to the task at hand moving papers, clipping them, and entering information into the local county database.

She sits feeling the gravity and the despair of what is happening. She's spent the past year being angry and frustrated with him hence she's a bit disappointed that she's accepted his overt actions so easily. She doesn't want to cry, no she is beyond that, it is more of an out-of-body experience ramped up by hormones and the overwhelming need to fuck him until he forgets his name. Vic leans forward and presses her fingertips into her forehead. She begins problem solving, that's what she's good at, and right now she has a 6'4" problem in a closed office just a few feet away.

Vic stands up, without excuse or justification, knocks on his door because after all he is the Sheriff and this is still work and as with every other time she doesn't wait for his reply as she opens the door and lets herself into his inner sanctum. She stays in the space between his chairs and his desk. He looks up at her, his countenance difficult to read and she thinks it may be just this side of terror, maybe its fear, maybe it's distress, it's something. He stands and she knows it's his instinct engaging in fight or flight.

"Vic."

"Did we just fuck it up?"

He shakes his head, "No."

"I feel like we did."

He steps toward her, not all the way, leaving enough room to flee. It's the cop thing they share working overtime for both of them. They try to keep the walls down but it is unnatural and exhausting.

"Vic," He swallows deeply, "Can I pick you up this weekend, and we can just go somewhere?"

"A date you mean?"

"I'm not sure."

"Let's not call it that."

"Ok" He says.

"We can just leave it like it never happened"

"No."

She looks down at her boots and the past year floods into her mind and her stomach hurts and she thinks his does too but when she looks up he is closer but not close enough for her to feel him.

"Vic, have you ever just had enough?"

She looks at him and she thinks about Ed and how she felt when she was tired of his bullshit. There was nothing he could have said or done to make her feel compelled to stay.

"Yeah, I do."

"That's how I felt tonight. I just had enough of denying it, denying everything, and I knew I couldn't make it any worse than it already was."

They stand looking at each other. She can feel him now.

"Noon."

"Huh?"

"Saturday at noon. Be at my place and don't be fucking late."

He still doesn't smile because this isn't a game and it isn't funny. He's fighting for his life right now and he knows it and she knows it too because the stakes are the same for her.

"Ok"

She turns the knob but doesn't open the door, "It's not a date."

"Got it" He says and he waits for her to pass through the door before he sits down again and the knot in his stomach grows tighter. He hears their laughter on the other side of the door so he chews a handful of antacids and walks out to join them.

"How many more do you have? I can take a couple." He says.

"We're almost done." Ferg answers still smiling at whatever joke passed between them.

"Ferg, I can finish, why don't you call it a night." Walt says out of the blue and both of them stare as if he grew a third eye and he goes to his default Sheriff Mode.

"That's an order, Ferg."

Ferg grabs his jacket, "There's only one more in my pile." He grins for a second, "Thanks, Walt, I can catch the game now. I really appreciate it."

Walt pats him on the shoulder, "Sure thing, Ferg."

Ferg hands him the interview card and Walt flips it back and forth between his fingers. He slides into Ferg's chair, sits at his desk, and begins to hunt and peck the information. They don't say anything to each other and she doesn't tease him for being a dork for wanting to be alone with her.

After a few minutes he says, "Thanks."

She doesn't look at him as she types, "For what?"

"Not, you know, giving me a ration of shit."

"Oh that."

"Yeah, that."

"Well, I figured you felt stupid enough without me adding to it."

"I wouldn't say stupid."

"Oh well, how about uncomfortable?"

"More like it."

He smiles, finally, and he looks down at his hands then over to her and her eyes lift off of the computer screen and directly through him. The words in his brain sync to those in his heart.

"I wanted to kiss you good night. That's why; I was, you know kinda stupid."

Her face flushes just a tad because she wasn't imagining it, "Good thing that was my last card."

He stands and presses his palms against his upper thighs. He walks over to her desk extending his hand. She rises to meet him while the back of his fingers traverse her shoulder and skirts the tender skin of her neck. They lean forward to kiss each other goodnight and it's anything but kind or gentle. It is a direct reflection of them.

Her hands fall to the center of his stomach. "I'm going home, Walt."

He is not interested in pressuring her because he wants her, all of her, and he is more than willing to wait.

"May I walk you to your truck?"

"Look, it can't be like this."

"Like what?" He does not know any better.

"You can't treat me different."

"It is different."

"It can't be. Don't you understand?"

His hands are on his hips, his lips twist, and he looks at her thoroughly confused.

"Ok."

"Don't do that."

He is silent and he is regressing.

"Good night, Vic."

The dormant gnawing she has felt the past year returns and propels her out of the door, down the stairs, and to her truck. Despite herself, she looks up at the slat covered windows and she sees him standing there looking down into the street at her. It's all the things that are wrong with them and she thinks of all the missed opportunities. All of the times they were out of rhythm and she thinks it's just the way it is, the way it will always be with them, and she drives away refusing to look back again.

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Thank you for your kind reviews. The next update will be several days and definitely after Thanksgiving. Have a wonderful holiday with your family and friends or as Henry would say Thankstaking...lol...:-)


	3. Chapter 3

He misses her.

He lays flat on his back while his mind whirls around the pain of his body aching for her. After only three shared kisses he's frightened there won't be more because too much damage has been done, that he's done, to her. He shifts to his side, his palm pressed against his ear, and he thinks about the feel of her hand in his. Her hand was softer than he ever imagined and he chuckles out loud at the thought. His eyes close at the idea but the salient satisfaction is momentary as the reality of his loneliness becomes tangible. His singular body spread perpendicular in the bed serves as evidence of his solitude. His subconscious tortures his flesh for being here without her. He wants her. He's always wanted her. It is a fact he has never denied to himself but he has always denied it to her. Only at this moment does he understand how gravely misguided he has been.

Walt does what every overprotective injudicious man would do he drives to Cady's house and parks on an adjacent street. He doesn't think of going to the door or interfering he just needs to know they are safe. They are protected. The front door of the house opens, Vic stands backlit by the front light, in the dark he can barely make out the Glock she has pressed to her thigh. She is beautiful he thinks but his instincts heighten at the sight of her. He stares down the dark street looking for anything unfamiliar. Vic closes the door and the lights go out. He walks the street three times looking for clues. When he doesn't find any he waits a little longer and eventually decides to sleep at the station in hope that Vic will be the one waking him in the morning.

"Walt."

Her hand presses gently on his shoulder.

"Walt."

His eyes open and take in her soft languid smile. Her fingers slide through the hair fallen on his forehead. She's always wanted to wake him this way and now that she can she does. She smiles at his sleepy foggy expression.

"You still mad at me?" He smiles.

"Mad?" She pauses, "Well, I have been mad at you for a long time but you knew that."

He faces the fact head-on and the overwhelming desire to flee is wonderfully absent.

"We were mad at each other."

He scratches his morning beard and moves over, his shoulder pressing against the cold drywall, so she can sit closer to him. He likes her hip pressed against his.

She moves nearer looking into his eyes and down to her hand still touching him. Her head shakes to the side, "I'm not doing this now, Walt. We can talk about it tomorrow away from here." She's not mean just truthful.

"Is that all you have to tell me?"

He pushes because he thinks he has the right. After last night he thinks she scared and he can't allow that. He mistakenly thinks he is the conduit of control.

"What?" She questions him, her voice on the edge.

"You seem, I don't know, a little distracted."

"Why the fuck wouldn't I be distracted, Walt." She stands, "You're such an idiot sometimes. I swear." She walks out of the cell and he hears her boots tackle the stairs and the front door slam.

His fingers thread through his hair as he leans over the side of the cot with his elbows resting on his thighs. He always goes wrong with her and he hates it but he is so wrapped up in himself he fails realize it's not about him. It never has been. He brushes his teeth and looks out to the front street. Her truck is still there. He uses his Sherlockian powers of observation and deduction and heads to the Busy Bee. He finds her in the back booth sitting alone with her hands folded over a piping hot cup of tea.

"I never knew you were a tea drinker." His memories and mistakes stitch together.

"Sometimes."

"You like it with milk?" He says, trying a little harder.

"Only Earl Grey. It's too strong otherwise and that's all Dorothy had so that's what I got." She doesn't invite him to sit and he doesn't assume he's welcome.

"What do you want, Walt."

"I thought I made that clear yesterday." It isn't working.

"Save that shit for someone else." She looks up at him. Her eyes are hard. Her jaw is clenched. The wall is up to its highest peak.

He slides into the opposite vinyl clad bench seat, "Trouble is Vic, I don't want anyone else."

"That's never stopped you before." She says.

He looks down at the Formica table then back up at her, his fingers grip the grooved metal around the lip of the table, "It would take a month of Sunday's for me to try to explain Vic but even then I don't think I could." He pauses, "I don't think I understand myself."

He looks out to the front of the restaurant and sees Dorothy taking an order at the counter and three long haul truckers eating the Hungry Man tall stack.

"Do you understand what happened with you?

He's cracked the wall, "What's the point of all of this, Walt?"

"Have we been wrong, Vic?"

"We've been wrong about a lot of things."

Their eyes are trained on each other neither one afraid but bold in their position.

"Have I been wrong about you, about what you feel, about me, I mean?"

"I don't' know, Walt. I don't know what you think I feel."

He swallows, "That there's something there, something between us, maybe."

"Perhaps once." Her fingers grip the hot tea cup.

"It felt like it was still there yesterday."

"I don't know." She looks away toward the front counter taking a subliminal snapshot of assessment and back at him, "I'm not sure I want to know."

"I don't want to abandon us. I did that once. I won't do it again."

He sees into the depths despite her best effort to prevent him.

"What's wrong, Vic?" He reaches over and gathers the ribbed knit edges of her jacket sleeve into three of his fingers. Her hands stay clinched around the mug of tea.

"Just leave it. Can't you just leave it, Walt?"

He shakes his head, "No."

"It's none of your concern." She says, "Yesterday was nice but it was yesterday."

"If it concerns you it concerns me, Vic."

Her voice elevates just a bit but the words are only for him, "Oh no you don't. You don't have the right to say that to me."

She gets up, slides her money on the table, "I am so not doing this with you."

He reacquires her sleeve, "Let's go somewhere tomorrow like you wanted."

"I don't think so."

"The only way to a woman's heart is along the path of torment."

"Did you quote Marquis De Sade for her or was it someone else when you were trying to fuck her."

He drops his fingers and stands facing her, "The only person I ever underestimated was you, and I will pay for it the rest of my natural life."

"You're not as smart as you think you are. That's your problem."

She walks away from him moving slyly past the truckers. He follows behind tipping his hat to Dorothy. He catches up with her at the sidewalk and they walk toward the station in-step despite themselves. When they reach the front door of the station she swings it open and he tucks in behind her just in time narrowly escaping being hit by the frame. He reaches up and pulls her back by her belt and takes her in his arms.

"Vic, I know you're mad but I also know something is wrong."

He lets go and she turns around facing him.

"You've always been right about us. Your life, Vic, what happens to you it affects me and I don't think that will ever change."

"I don't want you involved."

"I already am. Don't you see that?"

"You're not my white knight."

"I am your friend."

She looks at him, "It hasn't felt that way for a long time."

"That sword cuts both ways, Vic."

He keeps his hands to his sides, "Let's just hang out tomorrow." He's through the wall and on the other side.

"No expectations?"

"No."

"I really could use a friend."

"I'm your man."

He smiles. He knows exactly what he is saying.


	4. Chapter 4

**An extra day off and some cold weather helped this along much quicker than expected. Thank you for your patience and for your reviews :-)**

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"Why, Eamon?"

He picks up the fabricated rifle tucking the stock between his cheekbone and his shoulder. The bill of his new cap scrapes the back of his neck. He closes his eye though years of training have taught him not to but he does it his way. Another target falls and he looks over at her as she aims and fires. Her target falls.

She looks up, through her smoky Aviators, assessing.

"Convenience."

They reload and they repeat their routine. Their targets fall in surrender to the pellets striking them in the center of their red noses. She's not used to seeing him like this; faded soft blue jeans and a black cotton ribbed t-shirt. The conspicuously large coat absent. His tanned arms and muscles exposed to the afternoon sun. After the last target falls, he lifts off his new camouflage Broncos hat, and pulls all five fingers through his hair while arching his neck and repositions it perfectly with the snitched orange **_B_** facing the downed clowns.

He looks and smiles at her and points at their damage, "We tied."

"You owe me a beer."

"Yup"

The carnival worker smirks but is annoyed at his losses. He points to the top rack of overstuffed animals.

"Your choice. You're grand prize winners."

Walt laughs but his chest puffs out, "I'll take that one. The pink one." He watches the attendant's tatty hands pull down the huge puppy dog with gargantuan floppy ears.

"Miss, which one would you like?"

"Hmmmm, let's see. The pony. I'll take the blue pony."

They both turn away from the booth and Walt hugs the puppy onto his hip while Vic positions the stuffed blue pony into a proper headlock under her right arm.

"Cotton candy?"

He looks around and pushes his sunglasses up the bridge of his Roman nose and slides his hand down his clean shaven face.

"How about kettle corn?"

"Ooooh, that sounds good."

"Let's do both." He offers.

"You're on."

They find a random empty wood slat bench and sit and share their confections. The puppy and the pony sit together on the bench becoming fairly well acquainted.

"Why Donna?"

She asks without missing a pull from the multicolored swirl of cotton candy.

"I wanted to get laid."

She laughs and it's loud. He looks over at her and he smiles and says, "What?"

"Nothing. I just wasn't expecting that answer."

"I'm just a man, Vic."

"I always thought it was more than that."

He pulls a piece of the candy and lets it melt on his tongue.

"She wasn't you."

"That's fucked up, Walt."

His hand glances her knee and he holds it there for a moment to get her attention then he returns it to the red and white paper container of kettle corn. He scoops a half a handful and pours it into his mouth. He chews and speaks with his mouth full beginning to feel the effects of the massive amount of sugar he's pouring into his body.

"I've always known, you know, that we could never be casual." He confirms what she has always believed about them.

She looks away and notices the odd shapes and sizes of people walking past them oblivious of their crafted yet life altering conversation.

He's looking at her. "I guess this makes me an asshole."

They have stopped chewing, holding their respective candies, and they look at each other gauging the veracity of their words. He touches her knee again.

"Do you think I'm an asshole?"

"You can be an asshole, Walt."

"You know what I mean."

She turns and folds her knee onto the bench facing him.

"No, I don't think wanting to get laid makes you an asshole."

She pushes back her bangs as she faces him. She can't read his expression as he looks at her waiting for the rest.

"I think there's other stuff that makes you an asshole."

His face is receptive and he grips the back of the bench, extending his arm, his fingers wrap around the black iron rod framing.

"Like what?" He asks like he really wants to know.

"It's what you said or didn't say. You just dismissed me like we weren't friends, we weren't partners anymore."

"I resented you."

"What?" Her voice finds its higher registry and it is distinctively feminine.

"I thought you moved on without me because I was too slow. It all made sense to me at the time."

He looks past her shoulder and smiles as a family of four runs by screaming with joy.

"Why couldn't you just talk to me?"

"Like you said, I'm an asshole."

"Not all of the time but those times you definitely are."

She touches his stretched out forearm feeling the warmth of his skin and his hair melts beneath her fingertips.

"You can't do that anymore, Walt."

"I know."

"No, I mean, I won't let you treat me that way, ever. It hurt for a long time."

"I'm sorry, Vic. I don't ever want to hurt you."

"I'm sorry, too. I wish I had been better but I was in a bad place."

"We could have been better to each other."

"We could have."

His fingertips stroke the side of her arm. He takes off his sunglasses and folds them into the neck of his t-shirt. She notices a few hairs being forced out of the way but she refrains from being further distracted as he licks his lips.

"Did you know?" She asks, her voice is warm and full.

"I suspected." His lips purse like he's remembering and he's embarrassed.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. It's ok, really."

"Vic." He waits until she looks at him.

"I didn't want to see it. I chose not to see it. I wasn't confused. I wasn't hurt. I wanted to move on. I didn't want forever and I justified it in my head."

"If anyone understands that I suppose I do." She says referring to Ed Gorski.

He reaches out and whisks a strand of hair that has fallen over her sunglasses. She takes them off and holds them in her fingers next to the kettle corn. Their eyes are open and exposed and naked.

"Relationship." He says and her eyes become hyper focused. "That's what you called it."

She keeps his hold, "It never really was. He's not a bad guy, Walt. He was a distraction."

"From me?"

"It's not all about you."

His eyes fill, "Ok, Vic."

Her fingers trace his forearm again and she says, "There was a lot going on but yes you were a part of it but not all of it."

He nods, "It's over, With Eamon, I mean, is it over between you two?"

She shakes her head but she's not ashamed she is just confirming what he suspects. They sit there without saying anything and she leaves her hand on his forearm and his fingers press against hers. It's perfectly natural what they feel for each other. The intensity grows as they both question where they are and what they are doing.

"You know why I got the pink puppy don't you?" He asks.

"No."

"I got him for you. I think deep down inside you probably really like pink but you'll never tell anyone and he can take care of you when I'm not around." His eyes stay locked on hers. He feels safe with her.

"Do you like him?"

"He's cute but he's no blue pony." She says.

He tries to read her eyes, "Besides I know you like blue and we all know ponies have a special affinity for you."

They smile, at each other, as his fingers wrap around her arm, "They seem to be getting on."

She looks over at the stuffed pair and her hair swings over her shoulder. When she turns back around his face is serious and a little closer. She reaches up and smooths her thumb under his full lower lip.

"You can trust me, you know." He says, his brilliant blue eyes shining in the sunlight.

"I do trust you."

"No, I mean you can trust me with anything, Vic."

She searches his eyes and she knows that he knows and this is the moment.

"Don't ask me, Walt." She says shaking her head back and forth.

He turns his body to face hers, his knee folded and pressed against her, "Can you tell me if you're alright?"

She nods.

"Is Cady alright?"

She stares at him.

"Vic." His face turns hard.

"Has Cady talked to you?"

"Of course she talks to me."

"Has she talked to you, Walt." She says it slower.

She knows him well enough to understand that his calmness is about to brew into something heinous.

"Walt, I think you should talk to her."

"Can't you tell me what is going on?"

"I promised."

"You promised what?"

"I promised her I wouldn't tell you."

He clinches his jaw. He searches through their conversations, the conversations with Cady, and he can't find a single clue.

"Is that why you wanted to go somewhere today? You wanted to know what's going on with Cady."

'I wanted to spend some time with you when I asked."

"What changed? I mean if you haven't talked to her why would you think something is wrong?"

He underestimates her once again but unlike their shared past he tells her the complete unfiltered truth about the night he spent parked outside of their home.

She stands up and tosses the paper container of kettle corn in the trash and turns to him and says, "I can find my way home."

Vic starts to walk away but he is there beside her and asks her to stop. When she looks at him her face is like thunder.

"Walt, I can't do this with you. I won't do this with you or anyone else."

"Vic, it wasn't like that."

"It wasn't like you were parked outside watching the house? It wasn't like, what, some sort of weird stalker possessive behavior?"

"No, it wasn't like that. I just needed to make sure you were safe. That Cady is safe. That is my right."

"No, Walt. No, you don't have the right." She puts her hands on her hips bows her head and takes a deep breath.

"Listen, I'm really glad you told me the truth. I just, I've been through too many bad turns, to ignore the warning signs, Walt."

"Vic, it's not why I was there."

"Why were you there?"

He steps into her space and touches her waist just above her belt noticing how beautiful she is, "I think about you all of the time and it's not just those kind of thoughts. I worry about you. I worry about Cady but it's a different kind of worry except that I need to know that both of you are out of harm's way."

"Why did you want me to move in with her in the first place?"

"You needed someplace to stay."

"I could have stayed with you."

"You know what would have happened."

"That was such a revolting idea to you?"

He steps closer, their bodies touching, "Is that what you think?"

"I think it's what I know."

He shakes his head, "We would have ripped each other apart and you know it. Fuck."

Her eyes widen at his response.

"So having me stay with your daughter, what, makes it easy for you? You just have to stakeout one house instead of two."

"Vic." His voice nearly fails him. He closes his eyes. His fingers tighten around her shirt. "I can't help but worry about you."

"You don't need to worry about me, ever."

"Yes, I do."

They stand facing each other, the pony and the puppy sitting on the bench behind them keeping each other company and witnessing the truth unfolding before their plastic button eyes.

"You can't protect everyone, Walt. That's not your job."

"It is my job to protect the people I love."

"I'm not listening to this shit." She says and turns to walk away from him again.

"Vic, stop."

A few strangers turn to look at them but neither notices. He takes two long strides and catches up to her.

"You just don't get how your behavior is not okay. Not with me."

"Vic, let me take you home, especially now."

She knows he is right and that makes her furious and it stirs up memories of hurt feelings, shame, and anger. Feelings she isn't past.

"Fuck you, Walt."

She leaves him standing there ten feet away from two obscenely large stuffed animals and a fist full of cotton candy.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you for sticking with this story. The next update will be about a week from now. Your reviews are most kind and welcome.**

* * *

He couldn't wait any longer. When he knocks on the door panic runs through to his knees because he is not prepared. He will never be prepared for her. He has always known. It is a major part of his problem.

Cady answers the door with a full smile of surprise.

"Dad!"

"Hi, punk."

"Come in. What are you doing here?"

"I can't come by and see my daughter?"

He takes off his ball cap just as he would his O'Farrell and she is instantly suspicious.

"I was making coffee. Do you want a cup?"

He twirls the bill in his hands and follows her into the kitchen.

"Sure, that will be great."

He smiles and tries to act natural which makes him look more apprehensive. He bites his lower lip and chastises himself for acting this way and they sit at the perfectly manicured table as Cady pours their coffee.

"How are things at legal aid?" He is shifting gears trying to walk the fine edge with her.

"It's a lot of work but we are helping so many people. It's really fulfilling."

Her eyes are bright and her smile is full. Walt takes in her expression. Her resemblance to Martha grows stronger the older she becomes and he is flooded with unexpected emotion. He can feel his eyes moisten as he drinks her in and he smiles because he is proud.

She senses his apprehension and sensitivity. He reaches over and glances his fingers over hers, "Cady." Her large eyes look up at him waiting.

"Mom would be proud of you. You know that, right?"

She flashes her partial smile, the same one he has, "I think so."

"I'm proud of you." He should tell her more often.

She wipes her eye, "Thank you."

"How are things for you?"

"Fine." He lies.

"Better at work?"

"Yup. Moving along."

"Things still bad with Vic?"

"What do you mean?" His voice is soft almost inaudible.

"Come on, Dad. She lives here. Don't you think we talk?"

"I didn't know you two were that close."

"We've become pretty good friends, actually. It's nice having her here."

His heart hurts.

"Cady is there something going on that I don't know about."

He doesn't understand all of the sources of the pain he is feeling.

"Vic wouldn't tell me when I asked she said she promised you."

Her entire countenance changes and it makes his stomach hurt, too.

"Oh." Her eyes flutter when she looks at him like when she was little and was caught in a lie.

"What's wrong, punk?"

"Ahm, I've been receiving some phone calls. I'm sure they are nothing." She flashes a smile as a deflection. It is what she does when she is the most uncomfortable.

"What kind of phone calls?"

"A few annoying calls, a little heavy breathing, but really Dad I'm sure they are nothing."

"Why wouldn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to worry you."

"I'll always worry, Cady."

"Vic is here."

His entire body fills with pain.

"I mean I live with an armed deputy. I'm safe with her here, Dad."

"You mean you don't need me."

"That's not fair. That's not what I said."

He shakes his head. "Were you ever going to tell me that you both are in some sort of danger?"

"I don't think it rises to the level of danger." She's becoming annoyed but respectful.

"You're receiving phone calls, potentially threatening phone calls, and you don't think there's a possibility of danger?" He can hear the anger and frustration in his voice.

"Listen let's just calmly talk about this."

"Where's Vic?" He asks as if he has the right to know.

"She went out to dinner."

His pain gets worse; the pain in his heart.

He has made so many mistakes as a man and as a father. He sighs and thinks like a Sheriff. He asks her in his quietest voice; a voice filled with love and understanding. Cady explains the cases she is working and her genuine inability to determine which case could be related to the calls, if any. Since there is nothing specific that would justify a warrant she hasn't filed a report or asked for a warrant to tap her telephone line.

"Vic has been great through all of this." She smiles, "We even put up motion lights a couple of weeks ago and had an alarm installed. She's on top of it."

Cady smiles and takes another sip of her coffee as if that will reassure him.

"I may even get a dog. Vic suggested a dog because they are great at keeping watch. She likes dogs did you know that?"

He smirks and thinks of the pink puppy seat belted in the backseat of the Bronco

"Yeah, I think I knew that." His voice is sad and filled with regret.

"Well it looks like you don't need me then."

"I'll always need you. It would be nice if you came around more."

"I don't want to be a pest."

"Come on. Don't be like that. Stay for dinner."

He smiles and leans forward and kisses her cheek.

"Ok, punk. I'll stay for dinner. What's on the menu?"

"I wasn't planning on anything special, how about we order a pizza."

"Pepperoni and sausage still your favorite?"

"Always will be." Her face is bright and happy.

They sit and eat too much and laugh. They haven't shared this much time together since the discovery of Branch's body. He misses his daughter. He misses hearing her laugh. After Cady finishes her third beer she asks, "So what's with you and Vic?"

"What do you mean?" He drains his third and opens a fourth.

"You know exactly what I mean."

"We're friends."

"I don't want to pry and I definitely don't want this to get weird." Her eyes widen as she peels the label from her beer.

"I don't think I'm her type."

"That means you've thought about it."

He points his finger at her and then back to himself, "Are you really asking me about my love life?" His fingers land on his heart.

"If you want to call it that."

"I don't want to call it anything."

"You're not exactly prime dating material, Dad."

She takes another long swig of her beer.

"No offense but you are a bit obtuse. You aren't too good at expressing your feelings and you can be a bit overbearing."

He drops his head and shakes it back and forth thinking how this just isn't a good day to be Walt Longmire.

She puts her hand on his, "But you're also loving, and kind, and thoughtful. You just don't let that guy out too much."

He nods his head and drains his beer. He points and asks if she wants another one.

"I hope you are planning on sleeping here because there's no way you can drive after four beers let alone five."

"I'll be ok. I ate a lot."

"No, Dad, drink all you want but that couch has your name written all over it."

"I don't want to interfere with the bachelorette pad." He laughs embarrassed that he subconsciously sabotaged himself.

"You must be drunk."

"I don't want to be here when Vic comes home with her boyfriend."

He will always be this man.

"Boyfriend?" Cady asks.

"You said she went out to dinner."

"Dinner, yes. I never said a date."

He opens and finishes his sixth beer. He pulls his boots off and sits on the couch. Cady brings a blanket and a pillow.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, punk." He rubs his hands over his face feeling it flush and his head lighten

"Ok, let me explain how this works, I come clean with you and you come clean with me."

She smiles and moves her hair out of her face.

"I don't think Vic likes me very much."

"Do you like her?"

His head is swimming, "Yup"

She nudges him, "Ask her out."

"It's not that simple."

"Why not?"

"Cady, she's my deputy."

"Does the department have a nepotism policy?"

"Nope."

"So you looked."

"It is part of my job to know the rules. You know. I am the Sheriff."

He's defensive because he's vulnerable. He never once considered that his feelings were so transparent. She leans into his shoulder and stays there.

"Since we are being honest here, I thought something was going on with you two a couple of years ago but I didn't want to pry."

"Nothing was going on."

"Well, after Donna, that was obvious."

Walt sighs, scratches his five o'clock shadow, and let's his hands fall into his lap.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to sound insensitive."

"You just sound honest."

They smile at each other playing the Longmire game of peeling layers of flesh off of the bone one syllable at a time.

"What do you think about it, Cady?"

"About what?" She forces him because she knows exactly what she is doing.

"Vic?"

"I think I need to make sure your life insurance is paid up."

He falls asleep with this hands on his chest, the blanket half wrapped around his body, and his snoring does not wake the dead. She sits on the couch watching him sleep. He looks so peaceful with his eyes closed. A stark comparison to his normal lucid state. She leans forward and barely kisses his lips because wants too but she does not want the complications that come with him kissing her back.

When she wakes in the morning the massive pink puppy is sitting in the hall next to her bedroom door. There is a note taped to the furry white patch on his forehead written in Walt's masculine block letters.

 _He has a job to do so let him do it. Sorry I messed up our non-date. We would like to take you out for a real one. Walt and Blue Pony._

Shortly after showering and morning coffee her cell phone rings.

"Good morning."

"How's your head?"

He touches his forehead, "Oh, it's alright. Just a few beers."

"Yeah, Cady told me."

"Did you find your dog?"

She smiles and her voice lightens, "He stood guard all-night."

"I'm sorry for being such an idiot."

"I accept your apology but we can't make this a habit."

"Habit, that means you plan on keeping me around."

There is a pause between them as they reassess.

"I will always do my best for you." He says because it is true.

"Thank you." She says because she appreciates his effort.

He clears his throat lightly because he's practiced what he is about to say, "Would you like to have lunch with me today? I mean a real lunch."

"What other kind of lunch is there?"

"A real date, at lunch, with me. "

"I have some things to do this morning. What time were you thinking?"

"I can pick you up at 12:30 will that give you enough time?"

"That's perfect."

He waits for her to hang up and he holds the phone, his thumb goes over the numbers, and he stares at the receiver. She dresses in layers because it is Wyoming even if it is summer and while she knows how Walt thinks she doesn't know how he thinks when it comes to her or what he could possibly have in mind this afternoon. When she opens the door for him he stands on the other side wearing faded black jeans and a tight dark grey short sleeved sweatshirt. She wants to touch him. His hair isn't quite dry and she can smell the grainy soap mixed with citrus. How can he smell like this. It isn't fair she thinks.

"Hi."

He smiles and steps in and puts his fingers on her waist and kisses the corner of her mouth. She thinks it was on purpose. He is checking the barometer.

"Hi." She whispers into his ear. Her lips graze the edge of his sideburn.

"You ready?"

"Yeah."

He takes her hand and tells her how pretty she is and opens the door for her and she lets him. As she sits, she sees the blue pony seat belted in the backseat of the Bronco. Walt looks past her shoulder.

"He insisted on coming."

She knows she loves him. That is her problem. It has always been her problem.

"Did dog do his job?" He teases.

"Yes. I was safe last night."

She teases back and he brushes a strand of hair away from her eyes. His eyes close before his lips actually touch hers and his head is swimming again. He feels like he is falling and he doesn't want it to stop and it doesn't for a long time. Her fingers feather his damp hair and slide down his neck. It feels like she loves him. He wants it to be true.

"Does this mean you forgive me?"

"I forgive you, Walt."


	6. Chapter 6

**_A/N: The cosmos aligned and I was able to finish this chapter way ahead of schedule. Fair warning, the next chapter will be about a week. As always, thank you for taking the time to review. :-)_**

 ** _**Also, it doesn't warrant an M rating but you know there's some stuff going on**_**

* * *

They never make it to lunch. It all started with her running her fingertips lightly through the hair on his forearm and him making an inappropriate comment about not being able to drive with an erection.

"Walt."

She says steamily in his ear. Her fingers fervently try to pull up his thin sweatshirt and take the feel of his skin into her flattened palms. He was rendered speechless the moment he pulled the Bronco over on the rarely travelled and secluded road that eventually leads to the main artery of his property. His hands swallow the narrowness of her lower back and his head plunges between her breasts as he takes in the scent of her and the taste of her skin under his tongue.

"Walt."

She says a little louder and much throatier. He lifts his head, his eyes are dark and solid, as he watches at her. A soft smile traverses his lips. He can feel the sensation of his love for her filling his heart and tumbling over flooding his body.

His breathing is uneven when he answers her.

"Vic."

"I seriously want to do this."

A small groan rumbles through his throat.

"But we can't do this here."

"I'm dying, Vic."

He loves her too much to resist.

"I promise I will make up for it later."

He believes her.

"I think that made it worse." He flirts.

She starts to move back and retrieve her legs from around his waist.

"No. Vic, please don't move."

"Are you for real?" She laughs but not at him. She feels his awkwardness and it makes her feel the same.

"I need a minute."

She folds her hands around his neck and feels his chest expand with his deep breaths as he decompresses. The smell of him, the skill of his tongue, the ways he touches her and looks at her are all too much.

"Walt."

She says once more into the top of his head breaking his concentration. He looks up into her molten mahogany eyes.

"Fuck me." She says and she means it.

"I won't be able to stop again."

"I don't want you to stop."

She sees the switch in his eyes and a serene gentleness comes over him as he pulls his sweatshirt off and her hands fly to the full patches of soft hair and firm flesh. He unbuckles her belt and begins working his tongue just below her belly button. Her brain can't understand how his hands can be so strong yet gentle as they traverse her body. He leans up and kisses her deeply not afraid of the barbaric sounds and noises they make.

"Take off your bra."

He orders her and she does along with her shirt and her tank top. He takes in the sight of her, touches her, and bites in all the appropriate places. She can't pretend to be cute because she just wants to feel him inside of her. She's waited so long. She whispers his name and that's all it takes, he makes quick work of her pants and his drop to his ankles.

"Kiss me." He mutters into her mouth.

He says just as she takes him in and he opens his mouth and then remembers he is kissing her and he tries to take his time but it is too late for that and he knows it and she pulls him in tighter and grips his back. He falls into her love as he pumps and pushes. It's rough and it's guttural and it's over. He kisses her while he stays inside of her and his brain tells her he loves her and his heart confirms it but he doesn't want to tell her like this in this place and he is unexpectedly ashamed. He holds her and he feels her arms tighten around him and he doesn't want to let her go.

"I'll do better next time." He says because he is hoping for many more next times.

She doesn't answer him instead she kisses him again and she can feel his apprehension and she promises herself she won't overthink it. He drives to his cabin without discussion. He thinks of all the ways he could have done better but none of them sound sincere when he says them in his head so he stays quiet and withdraws deeper inside of himself.

"Walt, don't freak the fuck out on me, it was only sex."

He tries to play it off by sounding casual but it is anything but casual.

"I'm not."

As she crosses the threshold a flood of memories filled with yelling, and blood, and pain, and primeval emotions nearly overwhelm her. She wasn't expecting this. She doesn't appreciate this. She knows it's her problem but it is a problem, indeed.

"I think I'm gonna be sick."

She runs to his bathroom and grips the toilet. The adrenaline, the anxiety, the all-consuming sudden onset of regret is too much for her. All the once forgotten thoughts pulse into her consciousness as he holds her gently from behind.

 _Did he fuck her here?_

 _Did he like it?_

 _Did he use a condom?_

"Oh God" She says into the toilet and the remaining contents of her stomach empty.

"Vic, are you alright?" He asks and he pulls her hair back and takes her in his arms.

 _Of course I'm not alright you dumb shit_.

She utters in her head and her mouth does due diligence, "Can I use your shower?"

"Yeah, sure."

She rinses her mouth. She wants the smell of him off of her body and she hates herself for it because she has craved him for so long but she knows she can't love him like this. He turns on the shower and takes out fresh towels. She pulls back the plastic shower curtain and the scent of his soap, while subtle in itself, overwhelms her.

 _This will make it worse._

Her instincts fight for her survival.

"Walt, can you just take me home?"

He begins to panic but he is Walt Longmire so he doesn't let it show.

"Sure."

He reaches past her and turns off the water and neither says a word to the other on the drive to Cady's house. She has her door open before the Bronco comes to a complete stop as if they were serving a high risk warrant and the suspect was fleeing the scene. He shoves the truck in park but doesn't turn off the ignition as he runs behind her catching her at the front door. She works the key trying to get it in the new double dead bolt lock.

"Vic, talk to me." He says into her back.

"That's rich coming from you."

His hand holds her waist and his chin folds into her neck. He can feel the anger radiate from her and he tries to absorb it. He wants to take it all. He does not want to lose her. Not her, not again. He wraps his other arm around her and she grips it trying to pry it lose.

"Vic."

She pushes back into his chest and his head falls forward. His lips brush her cheek.

"I should have asked you. I should have known."

She can't push back the tears and that makes her cry more which makes her angrier at herself than at him.

"Fuck you, Walt."

"She didn't mean anything to me."

"That makes it worse you asshole."

He holds her tighter and he can feel the sobs before he hears them.

"You threw us away over nothing, over someone who didn't matter, how could you do that?"

"Self-preservation." He says into her ear. "I suspect it was the same for you."

There is nothing left for them except the truth.

"I hated you for loving me." He says as her fingers grip into his naked arms snaked around her.

"Why couldn't you just let me go?"

"I didn't want to let you go. I don't want to let you go."

She tries to calm her breathing so her words make sense. She doesn't want to cry.

"You just threw me away like garbage."

"I wanted it to hurt, Vic. I wanted you to hurt like I did."

Only a painful gasp escapes her throat as she absorbs his words.

"I wanted you to hate me as much as I hated myself."

She can feel his tears fall onto her neck and the strain in his throat. She tries to turn in his arms but his hold is too tight.

"Let me go."

He loosens his grip on her waist and she turns to face him. Both of them are raw and exposed and full of pain.

"How could you?" She pushes her finger into his chest over his heart. "How could you just fucking cut me out of here?"

"I never could." The tears are streaming down his face and he doesn't care and the snot fills his nose and it doesn't matter. "You will always be there."

She looks deeply into his eyes, takes a breath so her words will come out steady, "I can't do this, Walt, this bloodletting."

Vic wipes her face with the edge of her finger her eyes trained on him.

"Did you ever love me?"

"Yes."

"You couldn't have loved me."

"Not the way it should be, no."

He reaches up and wipes the tears from her eyes. Their bodies are pressed together.

"I want to love you the right way." He tells her the truth, "I want to give you all of me."

He holds her hand to his face and she feels his tears weave through the web of her fingers.

"I can't Walt. I can't go back."

"Can we start, over?"

She shakes her head. The tears have stopped.

"Not like it was."

He puts his arms around her and she lets him.

"I want us to get it right." He says in her ear, "I know we can."

She nods her head because she understands and she wipes the tears from his face but she does not have any words for him. Not now. Not standing on the front porch of Cady's house. He leans forward and kisses her forehead, his fingers float down her neck, and she turns to unlock the door.

He stands on the porch while she goes inside and waits to hear the alarm shut-off and the door lock before walking back to the parked Bronco. He is in too much pain to notice unfamiliar truck with Nevada license plates parked across the street.


	7. Chapter 7

She doesn't recover in the manner in which you would expect. She takes a long hot drawn out bath and opts for two bottles of water instead of two glasses of wine. The wine, she thinks, will make her say something stupid later when he calls. By midnight, when her telephone doesn't ring, her fury is only tempered by her shame. As she ascends into full self-pity mode she sees the pink puppy in the corner of her rented room and his presence forces an unwanted smile. Her sigh is exaggerated when she steps out of bed and places the puppy next to the door on the inside of her room. He can stand guard with no explanations needed. She closes her eyes imagining Walt's lips pressed on her body and she allows her pride to halt her desire to call him.

She wakes at 3:37 because she drank two bottles of water before bed. An idiot move she admits and despite all attempts not too she checks her cell phone but there aren't any missed calls or messages and the overwhelming sense of embarrassment is steamrolled by the wrenching of her stomach. She knows this feeling. Some call it instinct, some a gut check, but either way she knows something is wrong. She vacillates because the indignity of being dismissed by her lover is overriding her instincts. Vic, not one to panic, waits to ask Cady over morning coffee if she has heard from her dad. Their conversation is casual enough that Cady doesn't probe when she isn't able to provide any information about Walt's whereabouts.

Vic vows to never repeat her performance from a year ago when she aimed to conquer Walt with beer and booty. His cabin is off-limits. He can go fuck himself. By Tuesday morning she's is ready for battle. Her temper is peaked by the conspicuously absent Bronco. She pours a cup of Ruby's hot coffee and forces her face to relax.

"Ruby, have you seen Walt?"

"No, hun, he hasn't come in. I guess he's not coming in today."

"That's not like him." She says as her eyelashes open and close. The feeling in her gut returns full force.

"What's not like him, lately?"

She makes a good point. Vic doesn't react, instead she walks over to the slated blinds covering her window and drinks her coffee peering outside into the square just below.

"Ruby, would you mind calling him?" She asks and Ruby agrees.

"Just the machine."

A half an hour later she grabs her keys and is nearly at the bottom of the stairs when she yells for Ferg to join her. They blaze to the cabin.

"Ok, Vic, I know I'm not as quick as you and Walt sometimes but what's the big deal with him being late to work?" Ferg asks.

"He's never late like this."

"Ah, well there was a while there when not only was he late he just wouldn't come into work."

"That was a few years ago, Ferg."

"I hope he won't be too pissed at us."

"Fuck, I'll go up to the door, ok."

She yells because she is scared. Scared that either he is in a drunken stupor or something worse. Either scenario has her insides twisted. The Bronco is nowhere in sight. There's no answer at the door and the perimeter checks secure. Vic and Ferg check the obvious places and eventually find a spare key on top of the front door sill. She unlocks the door and this time when her stomach clinches it is for entirely different reasons.

"Walt!" She yells but her voice returns void.

They check the house and Vic recognizes the clean towels Walt set out for her and she instantly knows he is in trouble. There is no way he would leave for two days without letting anyone know. She closes her eyes, rests her hands on his sink, and thinks of him. She is not prepared to deal with her feelings as they begin to overtake her. She pushes them aside and focuses at the task at hand. After all of the obvious calls she confirms that no one has heard from him since Friday evening and she was the last person to see him on Sunday afternoon when they had their mutual meltdown on Cady's front porch.

The pain of her memories begins to poke and burn and it hurts. It is the distinct contradiction of that pain and the penetrating love that she feels for him that have her in a divergent quandary. She orders Ferg to stay at the cabin and stand post with strict instructions to answer Walt's phone if it rings and to call her if he shows up. She nearly pegs her truck getting back to the house. Cady and Henry are already there waiting for her and she has to make her play before she can start the investigation into Walt's disappearance.

The DVR and flat panel 26-inch monitor are neatly perched in Cady's office. Vic turns her back to them, runs her fingers over her forehead, and struggles to find the words to explain what inevitably they will see on the video surveillance. She uses her last ditch effort because she is not remotely ready for this.

"Maybe I should just watch this while you guys go out and look for him?"

Henry and Cady exchange looks of concern and remain in their places filling the doorway. Vic, defeated, turns and cues the video. Her face fills with blood as the electronic versions of them leave nothing to the imagination about the perceived nature of their relationship.

* * *

 **A/N: It was post this short transition chapter or none at all for a few weeks. Interesting developments? Thanks in advance for your reviews and speculation.**


	8. Chapter 8

He swallows hard, slows his breathing, and pins his ears back calling on animal instinct to listen for clues. He can taste the dried blood in his mouth. His throat is sandpaper dry. He listens. Hands and feet bound, head covered, he knows he is alone but he doesn't know where. No birds chirping, no music playing, just silence. He thinks about her. He thinks about his daughter. He wonders if they are safe. Did he fail them again? The pain in his heart matches the pain of his muscles as the void deluges him.

She swallows hard, folds her arms, and chews her lips. Her eye lids close hiding the humiliating eye roll occurring underneath. They remain as silent as suspects caught at the scene of a crime while the DVR continues to play. High definition images of Walt stepping off the porch, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, and the sudden tackle and hood appear. He never saw them coming. She can feel her stomach drop simultaneous to Cady's gasp. Her heart throbs. They stand frozen watching the captured partial images of Walt being swept from the sidewalk, kicking, punching, and driven away in a green truck with a partial license plate.

"What the fuck was that?" She exhales.

"I believe we have just witnessed his kidnapping." Henry says.

"No shit." Her inability to mask her insecurities always fails her.

"Wait, but why?" Cady asks the first real question and the panic begins to spread across her refined features.

"Do you think this has anything to do with the phone calls?" She's practically yelling as she runs into the living room and begins punching buttons attempting to scroll through the most recent calls.

"Phone calls?" Henry asks as he makes his way to Cady.

They huddle in the living room and Vic looks at both of them, "I'll find him. I swear to you I will."

She doesn't wait for a reply. She turns and bolts out of the door and calls the station barking orders for Ruby to get Omar to the station with his best tracking dog and Ferg his best outdoor gear. Her supersonic drive to the station is nearly as fast as the thoughts flipping through her brain; images of them, of him, slide through her mental view-master creating three dimensional memories of pain, hope, and love.

He forces his upper body to comply as he sits up. The hardness from the cold pressed concrete exacerbates the pain in his legs. Basement, finished basement, he thinks. It's cold and it is damp. He works to free his legs but to no avail. He's chained. His boots are gone. The cool metal of handcuffs press into the protruding bones in his wrists and any movement tightens them. They aren't cops he thinks. They didn't engage the safety lock. He is engaging his brain despite the shards of anguish. He begins stitching together the clues. It's been at least a day and a half. He can't tell dark from light but he can feel cold from colder. He thinks it's been 36 hours. The construct of his life begins to fold and collapse under the paper ego he holds on high. No one noticed he was gone. He is sure. It is of his own doing. He will pay for his arrogance.

She instructs Cady how to screen capture and email the still frame of the partial license plate. She and Ferg stare and try to identify the plate to no avail. Her temper gets the best of her and she lets out a two fisted scream of anger and frustration.

Ferg feverously begins scribbling on a notepad which becomes the target of her wrath.

"What the hell are you doing?" She snaps.

"Listing all the states and the state motto next to it."

"What?"

"Didn't you do this as a kid on road trips? You know identify the state license plate and the motto."

"Fuck, no."

"Well, another thing you missed, Big City."

She rolls her eyes and stands over his shoulder and starts Googling Ferg's answers verifying his accuracy.

"Damn, Ferg, you got them all right so far."

"Yup, small town country has its benefits."

"Ok, enough already." She's beginning to calm down, her humor making small peaks and bursts.

"Nevada is the Silver State sometimes known as the Sage State."

Ferg twists his neck sideways, then sideways some more, he's at a ninety-degree angle to the partial image.

"I think that's a Nevada license plate." He says, his head still canted perpendicular to the high-definition image in front of him.

"The S in the snow-capped mountain, Vic. It's Nevada." His pencil lipped partial grin confirms his assuredness.

"We need help." She says out loud like she didn't mean too.

"Why would someone from Nevada want to kidnap Walt?" Ruby asks quietly unable to hide the fear and worry on her fragile features.

"Ruby, are any old cases ringing a bell with you?"

"No." She shakes her head ringing her fingers simultaneously.

Vic fashions the wall in his office with the printout of the partial license plate. The hand furnished bookcase a reminder of what is at stake. She slides her cell phone out of her breast pocket and makes the call. Within four hours twenty five federal agents fill the lobby of the Absaroka County Sheriff's Department lobby. In her desperation her heart promises him.

He pushes his head against the wall and waits for his mind to transport him from his present condition. Her lips flutter past as they whisper his name. He waits for the memory of her warm breath whispering his name and he imagines she tells him she loves him. He believes it to be true. He needs it to be true.


	9. Chapter 9

They stand silent in their dark suits. The dimly lit office bounces the high definition images flickered across the screen. The overwhelming feeling of humiliation is evident in her appearance and her paralyzing actions. Agent Pat Hayden, glances at her Italian leather oxfords and her perfectly shaped eyes land on Vic, she offers a twinge of a smile. A hint of quiet feminine support. As the last image of action fades from the screen and back to the static capture of the non-descript street Hayden clears her throat and says, "Ok, let's play this one by the book. Obvious suspects on the south wall, open cases on the white board, and tips or public leads will be tracked by Deputy Ferguson."

She walks in front of Vic and asks, "Steve, anything I missed?"

Pryor shifts his hands in his front pockets, his iron jaw clenched and he shakes his head. He doesn't say a word. Vic reads them as both protective and dizzily disappointed. Her mind whirls attempting to limit the collateral damage to him, to her, and the department. This will destroy them.

Vic stands firm, her hands clasped in front of her, "I can explain." She's ready to take the hit.

Pryor's piercing blue eyes flash at Vic then shift to Hayden as if he is seeking permission for action in virgin territory. Pryor shifts his weight and turns toward the sea of dark suits, "Get to work." His voice is firm and ominous. His authority is real. The agents file out and fill the next room. As they pass, they avoid judging her and a few offer closed lip nods, as if they will die from her embarrassment or from Pryor's heavy hand.

Hayden closes the door behind the last agent and turns back toward Vic. She puts her hand out, her fingers rest on her forearm for just a moment, "I'm sorry, Vic."

"Thanks, Hayden." Vic's face is blank, her ears pinned back, and she waits for the inevitable but when it doesn't come she offers to explain once again.

Pryor looks at both women and steps toward Vic.

"Listen, Vic, I'm not surprised by what I saw."

His eyes soften and turn grey before her and he sighs, "Well, that's not exactly true."

He steps a little closer but doesn't invade her space. "I sort of thought you two were a match made in heaven when I met you last and I guess I was surprised by the obvious anguish on that recording." He points over as if he is replaying the images in his mind's eye.

"It's complicated." Vic offers.

"Obviously." He says and waits.

"Does this have anything to do with his kidnapping?" He continues.

"Besides him being distracted? Isn't that enough?" .

"That's not what we're asking." Hayden says. Vic clues in and her eyes well.

"No. I had nothing to do with it. I love him." The last bits of words were out before she could edit them. Her vanity is a mere pittance to pay for his return. For the first time she considers the repercussions. What this will do to her soul, her love for him.

"Does he know that?" He asks and Vic twists her head.

"Why would you ask that?"

"It may help keep him alive."

Hayden intercedes, "We are hoping he is still alive, Vic, but with a two day lead I don't have to tell you the chances of recovery after 48 hours dramatically lowers the positive outcomes."

Vic shakes her head, "I know and I'm scared shitless."

The three begin a brief strategy for manpower deployment when Vic stops them, "Listen, I need to thank both of you for not making any of this more embarrassing than it already is."

"There's no room for embarrassment for matters so important." Hayden says her eyes filled with soft compassion.

"That includes matters of the heart." Pryor looks at her and doesn't break eye contact, "Now let's move on, and find your man."

Vic turns her head and swipes her brow pushing aside her bangs in the process. "It took three of them. Walt's strong. I know he's alive. I can't explain it. I just know it."

She folds her arms across her chest, "This is what we know. The Bronco is missing. We can't find it which means they had a way of making it disappear or they didn't go very far and it's in a garage close to Cady's house. We don't have technology to help us; no gps, no lojack, no cell phones to track, no nothing and Omar confirmed the dogs won't work because they put Walt in a truck and drove him away."

"No cell phone?" Hayden questions.

"Walt doesn't own one." She answers.

Her eyebrows rise over her perfect features, "I guess there's a story there."

"Let's assemble the teams and start with an action plan. Let's get on it." Pryor orders and as the team enters Walt's office they divide in a perfectly orchestrated pattern and quietly but feverishly begin sorting and analyzing the little evidence before them.

She nods for Ferg to join her and she runs down the game plan and Ferg's eyebrows furrow as he takes it all in.

"Vic, Walt doesn't have a phone but I bet the guys who took him have phones."

"That doesn't help Ferg. We don't know who took him."

"Why can't we get warrants for the most obvious suspects." He points toward the south wall. "If we look at their cell phone records we'll know if they were here in Durant."

"Fuck." Vic says and it's loud enough for heads to turn.

Vic fills in Hayden and Pryor of the plan and they both look at Ferg with quiet surprise. The same look that most have before they know him. It is his greatest asset.

"Let's start typing the warrants and pray the judge is in a good mood." Pryor barks and the clattering of keyboards fill the room.


	10. Chapter 10

He doesn't know what day it is. It's cold again. Thoughts flash through but he can't stay focused. The pain is the only reason he knows he's alive. They take turns. One at a time; kicking, punching, but the bat is the worst. His arms stretch above his head, his shoulders press against his carotid as he nearly renders himself unconscious. The handcuffs ripped into his flesh days ago, the scabs ripped open again as they hold his weight. He can't feel his toes anymore. They never responded to his questions. He doesn't know who or why. They never pretended this was a negotiation.

He thinks about his family name as lifelike images of him and Standing Bear dash through. Happy times. Free times. Martha's hair falling to his face. He thinks about Cady and his heart fills with hope. As another blow is absorbed by his thighs he cries out and he thinks he is ready. Ready to surrender. Then he thinks of her and the pain inside matches the pain of his flesh. Another blow, another strike, another punch. The air escapes his lungs and the coughing starts once more as liquid seeps in where it doesn't belong.

They laugh.

He grits his teeth, tastes his own blood, as they release him from the metal bar leaving him as a slump of meat on the basement floor.

He asks her to forgive him. He asks for another chance. He tells her he loves her.

Small rings of smoke filter through his beard before ascending to the realm of higher thoughts. His tenure and stature are enough to ignore the ordinance forbidding smoking in a government office. His disposition appropriately matches the matter at hand.

He makes them wait as he reads the affidavits and peels through pages of Black's Law 9th edition. Modern technology skipped his office. Vic nods and looks to Pryor and Hayden silently begging them to tolerate the exercise in detail and authority.

Judge Peter Thompson, a native son of territorial descendants, raises his silver coif and sighs.

"Judge, sir, you can see we have exigent circumstances."

"What it appears you have Deputy Moretti is a vast exaggeration of the law."

"Your Honor, our request may be pushing the boundaries and in this situation we believe it is indeed justified." She stays on her best behavior.

"Hmmm" he says, resting the pipe in his stained ashtray.

"Are we wasting our time here?" Pryor asks while shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Excuse me, sir." Thompson challenges with is full baritone voice.

"Do you not care that the Sheriff of this county has been kidnapped?" Pryor responds in equal measure.

"You cannot change the law to fit the facts and the fact is you do not have the basis for a warrant. Wyoming law does not allow a warrant based on pure speculation."

"What else would you need?" Hayden asks in a much softer tone playing a necessary her role in this high stakes drama.

"You do not have anything but conjecture. You have not created a nexus to suspect any of these men. You do not have witness statements. You have three unidentifiable men who presumably kidnapped the Sheriff. "

"Presumably." Vic is on her feet, her hands on her hips, and she rails against the anger boiling inside of her blood.

"You off all people understand the Constitution. You know all that claptrap about being innocent until proven guilty." Judge Thompson scolds all three as they are held hostage to his decision.

Vic's lips tighten as she reminds herself that there is only so far she can go with the judge and still recover.

"Every minute is a mile farther from us bringing him home alive." Hayden adds.

"Well, I gently suggest you three vacate my office and use your investigative skills to gather more evidence because here in the Equality State there's not a judge alive that will grant this warrant." Thompson looks up and does the oddest thing. He winks.

Pryor's face turns to stone but just as quickly his continence softens as Vic turns to him and Hayden. They all three click with the subtly of the clue at once. Pryor extends his hand and the old man stands, spry and strong, and returns in kind.

"Deputy Moretti, may I speak to you for just a moment alone." His question sounding like an order so she stays behind promising to catch up at the station.

He puts the unlit pipe back in his mouth, the stem clicking on his teeth as it settles.

"I'm an old man. I'm tired. Both are excuses for my candor." He smiles displaying two rows of natural teeth before he pauses and dismay fills his aristocratic features.

"Walter is an imperfect man who has led an imperfect life. I can only imagine the pain he has endured, the pain you have endured with the events of last year. There is obviously a great deal of affection between you two." His thick eyebrows move closer together as if they recognize the gravity of what is coming. "Don't let your heart dictate your mind in this investigation or you will never find him."

Vic takes in his words and lets them soak into her skin. She nods her head in affirmation.

"Thank you, your Honor."

"You're welcome, child."

She sprints down the street, takes the stairs two at a time, and meets Pryor and Hayden in the office bay.

"Ok, we all picked up the old man was saying, right?"

They shake their head while they both punch in telephone numbers.

"Hayden is getting the Federal court clerk and I'm on the line with the home office to get everything transcribed to Federal affidavits."

"What can I do?"

"Drive fast." He quips.

Ninety-eight minutes later they are headed back to Durant with a half-dozen warrants and Federal teams setting up on their covert operations, extracting cell phone records, and consulting engineers to verify triangulation figures.

"This would have only worked in a handful of state's like Idaho, Nevada, Wyoming, Montana, and..." Vic asks attempting to confirm what just happened.

Hayden cuts her off, "Unless you're going to name all 50 states let me stop you."

"What do you mean?"

"Sovereign citizens, Vic. They are the greatest domestic terrorist threat. Homegrown terrorist that's what they are."

"Shut the fuck up."

"That terrorist nexus got us these warrants." Pryor verifies, "They are everywhere, Moretti. The Patriot Act came through this time."

Vic rubs her fingers across her forehead. The headaches have never gone away. She keeps them to herself. Her memory is cloudy at times and it has made her question her sanity especially when it comes to him. Her memories of him maybe loving her and liking her are void of action as if she's blended dreams with reality. She doesn't trust the images anymore. Especially the one of him asking her to stay. What she has believed to be real has nearly killed her.

"Who is this Chance Gilbert?" Hayden asks ruffling through the manilla case folders.

"What can you tell us about him and his clan?" Pryor asks still looking out of the window.

Vic sighs, "What do you want to know?"

"Everything." He turns and looks at her this time.

"He kidnapped me and my husband, tried to kill us, but Walt made a last minute deal. Walt let the sovereigns go and the two basically counted it off and Walt was left standing."

"Like Dodge City?" Pryor asks

"Like Dodge City." Vic answers

"I'll be damned." Hayden believing the myth for the first time.

"Walt killed Chance's brother in a shootout years before and Chance wasn't going to miss his opportunity to exact revenge. In the end, Walt got both brothers."

"The nephew, that's who we got here, let me see his package, Hayden." Pryor is in full Agent in Charge mode as he flips through the folder looking at the photographs reading the rudimentary forms and government documents.

"Typical sovereign, very little official government documents to leave a trail but still mainstream enough to have a cell phone." Hayden says out loud as Pryor stares at the papers.

"How long will it take for us to get some real information?" Vic lifts her palm from the top of the steering wheel checking her speed.

"It depends on his cell phone carrier but I would say we will know within the next couple of hours whether the good Mr. Gilbert was in Absaroka County on Sunday afternoon."

They stretch a few more miles down the road, "Revenge, crimes of passion, they are all related you know. If it's this Gilbert guy Walt's in real trouble." Hayden says as if she is thinking out loud.

The chirping of Hayden's phone interrupts her thoughts. A series of ah huhs and yes's follow.

"Ben Gilbert, 23 years old, last known address in Sparks, Nevada. His cell phone records have him in Wyoming the past six weeks; specifically Durant on Sunday and that's when his phone went dead. Turned off."

Vic's stomach knots and she tells them the full sordid details including the hang-ups. She doesn't leave anything to the imagination. They listen. They don't interrupt.

"If they are involved they will feel the full weight of the US Government. That I assure you, Moretti. That, I assure." Pryor says then turns his head and looks out at the vast open frontier fleeting before his eyes as he wonders about Walt Longmire and the woman sitting next to him.


	11. Chapter 11

She blows the steam back into her Styrofoam cup and the backdraft heats her forehead forcing her to blink her eyes.

"So ah Hayden tell me the truth." She fills her lungs with the hot air, holding the cup to her lips, leaving the liquid in the container.

"What are the odds that Walt is still alive?" She continues and she waits for the answer.

"We only have one thing in our favor." She squares her shoulders facing her thinking of how improbable the odds really are and just how truthful she needs to be while keeping Vic in the right frame of mind.

"What's that?"

"Walt is the Sheriff."

"What? How is that in our favor? I thought you said these sovereign citizens hate the government and cops especially."

"They do but the only form of authority they recognize is the Sheriff, not the deputies, just the Sheriff." Hayden pauses, looks down, and back up holding Vic's desperate glare. "I don't need to tell you that the fact that we haven't received any demands means this is not a kidnapping for gain. It is for more sinister means."

"They are going to torture him." Her fingers instinctively trace her forehead as her subconscious reminds her conscious mind of their capability of evil.

Hayden extends her hand to her shoulder, "I'm really sorry Moretti for all the shit you've gone through."

Vic's eyes well for only a moment then refocus, "Thanks, Hayden."

"Hey listen, this is none of my business and I'm not trying to pry but did you ever go talk to a counselor or something afterward? I don't know how small towns run but when you work at the Bureau, you know, we have a shit ton of people and resources so getting help is part of the protocol."

Vic shakes her head and Hayden lowers her voice as if she is talking a suicidal subject off of a ledge.

"Listen, I can make a couple of phone calls and set you up with someone completely on the down low. It would be just between us. No one can go through what you did without some help."

Vic just nods and thinks of how she never takes care of herself and how she's resented that he didn't take care of her emotionally. He asked her once how she was but he didn't protect her as he should have. She's always made excuses for him like he didn't want to interfere but he should have interfered if for no other reason than he was her boss. He not only had the moral obligation he had the authority. He did the same to Branch and it's one of the reasons she's hated him.

Hayden offers her a closed lip smile, "I'll get you the info by the end of the day."

"Thanks." Vic offers

"You're welcome, Moretti."

The six FBI teams work in small groups throughout the office while Ferg coordinates the various county deputies on loan to handle the calls for service. Less than an hour since their return to the station, the tech information begins to pour in from various sources. They chart the progress on Walt's wall and have eliminated four of the six suspects.

Gilbert is suspect number one but they are stalled while waiting for triangulation information. They discuss the obvious. Where's the Bronco?

"How do you make a Sheriff's vehicle fucking disappear? " Vic exclaims.

"It has to be close?" Hayden says.

"You said they kept you and your husband in a basement, right?" Pryor asks his eyes intensely focused.

"Yeah"

"Do the homes in your neighborhood have basements?" He asks.

"I'm not really sure. It's Cady's house, that's Walt's daughter, and there's no basement."

Hayden and Pryor exchange looks; the look that reminds every one of the Stepford Wives.

"You need isolation if you're going to torture someone. You need a place where the screams can't be heard." Pryor says very factually but Vic tunes him out, her stomach on the verge of convulsions, her body remembering every blow, every chokehold and she fights to maintain her composure.

Ferg joins the conversation and listens to the alternating theories. His face expressive as the various thoughts fill and float through his mind. He turns to Vic and tries to read her.

"How far do you think they would have gotten in the Bronco before someone realized it wasn't Walt?" He asks her and her eyes snap in his direction.

"Maybe just to the first truck stop or gas station." She answers him.

"Maybe we should divide all four directions and check with the first stations we come too. Maybe someone saw the Bronco."

Hayden dispatches the agents and they hit Absaroka County in a fleet of black SUV's and beige sedans. After an half-hour they are not any closer to finding him. All of the possible stations reported seeing nothing unusual. The surveillance video of the one truck stop, Sal's, just shows trucks fueling, drivers buying snacks, stretching, nothing unusual.

Vic yells with her open palms just outside the sphere of her head, "I don't understand how the Bronco can just disappear? How come no one saw anything? Fuck!."

She doesn't apologize instead she continues.

"What the fuck is taking them so long with the triangulation. We're never going to fucking find him."

"How do you make something disappear?" Pryor says as if Vic's outburst is police procedure.

"You hide it. You make it invisible." Vic answers only slightly calmer.

"You hide it in something bigger." Hayden says.

Ferg's face flattens, "You drive it into an empty trailer. You simply drive it out of town."

They all turn to Ferg. "Sal has cameras everywhere since we busted that prostitution ring a couple of years ago."

"That's team three's location." Hayden confirms to Pryor.

"Have the teams converge there and we will start a grid search pattern. Have the recordings analyzed starting the week before the kidnapping. Shut the station down if necessary."

Hayden gets on the hand held radio and barks back Pryor's orders.

"Call the office and get a warrant. We want anything we find to stick." He adds and says, "We will stay here and wait for the triangulation results and narrow our search."

Ferg steps in, "I'll get parcel maps from the assessor's office. That way we can find out which houses have basements, permitted basements, anyway."

"I'll call the realtor service I used when I was trying to find a rental. Maybe they have information on a recent rental or a sale for that matter within the grid pattern." Vic says, calming down, and finding hope that they actually may have a lead. A real lead to follow.

All four disperse into the corners of Walt's office and begin calling, writing, and making notes. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. She tells him to fight. She tells him to remember who he is; Walt Longmire, a badass motherfucker if there ever was one.


	12. Chapter 12

She calls Cady and tells her as many details possible without compromising the investigation. It doesn't take too much convincing for Henry to stay with Cady until they determine if the phone calls are related.

"I will call you when we find him." Vic tells Cady.

"You have to find him." Cady says with tears in her voice.

"We will."

"You're my best friend you know."

"I know. Me too. Really."

They pause, "We'll get him back, Cady. I promise."

She hangs up before she has to answer the question. The odds of finding him dead or alive? She reminds herself of Judge Thompson's words. Intellectually she knows his words are wise and well-intended but nearly impossible for her to follow. She never expected the depth of her feelings. The good or the bad.

"I can't sit here and wait. I'm going to Sal's." She announces.

"I'm going with you." Ferg grabs his jacket before anyone can launch a protest.

Pryor nods at Hayden and she jumps to her feet, grabs her keys, and catches up with them. Vic files the observation away. It is a very tender reminder of the unspoken communication between partners. It transcends lovers. It is the part of them she misses most. It is the part she fights for in the dark desperation of these moments.

"They are reviewing the DVR from last week. So far nothing unusual." Hayden updates them and the rest of the drive is silent. When they pull into the parking lot, Vic thinks how handsome he was that night in his baseball cap and leather jacket that fit his tall structure. It was the first time she'd seen him wear anything other than his cowboy hat and he showed his deceptive speed with his long legs on display chasing the tractor down. Nearly everything about him is deceptive. She decided that night.

Ferg gives her a slight smile, "I wish Branch was here with us."

"Me, too." She misses him despite the bickering they were always on the same side in the end.

Vic turns to Hayden. "We're going to do some old fashioned police work, Hayden. I don't want to look at another surveillance tape."

"What do you have in mind, Moretti?"

"We are going to walk the parking lot, get plates, talk to people. We're missing something. We're missing a lot and I can't just sit and wait. We need to find Walt."

Nearly an hour later, more conversations that lead nowhere, they begin a quiet seeping despair. They walk in tandem to the far recesses of the parking lot past the fueling stations and into the overnight sleeping area. They scribe license plates and call them into Ruby.

She looks at Ferg and shakes her head in frustration. He shrugs his thick shoulders, "We just have to keep going, Vic. He would never stop."

The four simple words send her into an unexpected tailspin. She's immediately transported to the river, Walt on his knees, following his instinct and refusing to give up. Sifting through river rocks and sand. Challenging her to never give up. What if it were him he asked confusing her even more and leaving her paralyzed to react or respond. In those moments, she believed he knew and that he loved her but he never acted like he loved her. It's another reason she doesn't trust her memory. The mixed messages. She fights to forgive him. He didn't care for her heart.

They walk to the far edges of the lot and find two Freightliners and a Western Star. They go through the motions and run the plates with Ruby. While she waits her undefinable instincts stir and begin to percolate.

"The trailer on the Star doesn't have a plate." She yells back to Ferg, walks around and eyes Ferg turned upside down, shining his mini flashlight on the inside lip of the trailer. She steps-up and confirms the cab is empty.

Somewhat breathless he says, "I found the VIN, write it down, and call it in."

Vic pens the numbers and letters and Ruby tells them it is stolen from Idaho Falls over a month ago.

"We don't need a warrant." She tells Ferg.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Let's open this fucker."

"It's pad locked."

They exchange a brief look, "Call Hayden. I'll go."

Vic takes off and runs the full distance back to her truck. She's winded when she gets there and she stops and takes two gulps of air before starting the truck. Speeding across the parking lot, she locks it up and skids, jumps out, runs around back, grabs the tire wrench, and hands it to Ferg who starts leveraging his strength and weight against the locking mechanism.

Two black Suburban's kick up the same dirt trail Vic blazed through. The lock pops. Ferg jumps down and the agents draw their weapons standing on either side. Ferg pulls the door and it groans open revealing the Bronco. Her stomach drops.

"Walt." She calls. "Walt."

They step into the trailer but there's nothing. The Bronco is empty.

"Fuck."

"Our team will start working on forensics." Hayden says.

Vic jumps down, faces Hayden, not feeling the brightness of the situation, "Do you think we need the media?" Her face contorted with frustration. "We are running out of time."

"That may drive them further underground."

"Chance didn't have a television."

"He didn't have a cell phone either."

"You have a point there. Fuck." Vic exclaims.

"Sal's should have the footage of the tractor trailer being dumped."

"The realtor didn't have any leads. They couldn't recall anything being for rent since the casino opened. It's the main reason I couldn't find a place to rent after my divorce."

Hayden nods and Vic feels compelled to explain. "Walt wasn't the reason for my divorce. I never cheated on my husband." She says quietly between the two women.

"You don't owe me an explanation, Vic."

"I just felt you needed to know." She pauses, "He is worth saving."

"I never doubted that." She adds and silently wonders about the pressures of being in love with the biggest man in a small town.


	13. Chapter 13

He's been here before. Near death. He knows the odor. The sound. He begins to prepare. He chastises himself for never finishing his will. There's not much but there are specifics. He fades in and out afraid to sleep with a concussion so he channels every thought of her. The images flip grainy and silent. Every still burns with regret. He single handedly dismantled the potential of them. He puts his mind in hers. Walking in her thoughts. In her steps. She will find him.

She turns and pulls open her truck door with attitude and purpose. Climbing into the driver's seat she stops and waits for Ferg.

"What are you thinking, Vic?" He asks.

"I'm thinking we are too close to all of this and we are fucking this up." She wipes the single tear of complete frustration from her eye.

"Well." He says and pauses, "Let's work this out."

"If Gilbert and those sovereign fucks took Walt, and it looks like they did, I know all too well what they are doing to him." She can feel her bottom lip quiver but she refuses to relent.

Ferg thinks, "Is there something unusual that you remember? Something that would help us find where they are? They aren't at Chance's compound. The FBI and the BLM agents already cleared every inch of that property and the address in Sparks."

She shakes her head. "I keep thinking but they were all so non-descript, Ferg." She looks at him. "I just remember him saying, 'Chance, Walt Longmire is here,' and the relief I felt because I knew we would be alright. Walt was there to save us."

She wipes her brow with the back of her hand.

"Headache?" He asks

"Yeah." Not lying this time.

"Asprin?"

"Don't have any."

"They will have some in the store. Besides I could use a Mountain Dew."

They park and drag themselves into the store reminiscent of working late night shifts. Vic finds the overpriced four pack of Tylenol and Ferg fills up a thirstytwo ouncer full of crushed ice and Mountain Dew. She walks to the back of the store, past the oil and transmission fluid, looking for the ladies room. The cashier voluntarily tells her the FBI team is in the security office. She passes a small deli counter with a few truckers ordering their foot longs for the road. An oversized glass mason jar of boiled eggs sits on top of the counter next to a matching jar of giant dill pickles. Something triggers and stirs with her memory, her real memory, and the idea forms fully as she turns and looks above. The cameras are integrated throughout the floorplan.

She's next in-line and the two hundred pound bearded man making sandwiches is distinctively out of place. He should be turning wrenches instead of spreading mustard and mayo. She smiles, balances her weight on one hip, and asks without prejudice, "Has anyone ordered any bologna this past week? I know that's kind of a silly question." She flips her hand in the air and smiles a little wider.

He looks up from the wheat roll he is slicing, "Did Sal put you up to this? Are you punking me?"

"No, why?" She smiles wider.

"Last week this real nervous dude came in here and ordered five pounds of bologna. Do you know how much bologna that is? We don't carry that much so he took what I had and bought all of our Spam and Vienna sausages." He points with the slicing knife to an empty shelf behind her.

"That's odd." She looks at the small empty shelf space that once held the canned meat.

He shakes his head silently agreeing with her obvious observation.

"By chance, do you remember what day that was?" Her fingers come up to her ear by instinct as the clues stitch together.

"Last Sunday night around 7:00 p.m. I had to work back here because Ginny called off sick just like she did today."

"Was he with anyone else?"

"I couldn't say."

"Thanks." She says and points, "Is the security office this way?"

"Sure is."

Ferg joins her just before she barges through the security officer door. "Cue the DVR to Sunday night by the deli counter. Our suspect was there buying bologna and canned meat."

The agents, sorting through the footage, stop for a moment. They exchange looks with each other. They know about Vic Moretti and they notice the heavyset deputy shaking his head as if to subconsciously warn them not to fight. They understand the gravity of the search and elect not to assert authority or risk physical injury. Instead they motion for the loss prevention officer and he moves forward, smiles at Vic, and cues the video.

"What time are you searching for ma'am?" He asks noticing Vic's bare ring finger.

"Let's start at 1830." She gives the counterman a half-hour of leeway. At precisely 1849, Ben Gilbert comes into view and places his order at the counter. He buys Spam, Vienna sausages, mustard, white bread, two cases of water and a roll of Copenhagen long cut.

"Can you bring up the parking lot. Was he with anyone else? What car did he drive? Did they dump the trailer at the same time?" Vic is rattling questions while the agents start making calls and taking notes on their tablets. The loss prevention officer clicks, types, and drops footage in the mini-LCD screens and holes to the story begin to fill with the high definition electronic images:

 _1845: The green Ford truck, with Gilbert driving, pulls into the station from the west, stops at the front fuel pumps. (Suspect #1)_

 _1846: The Western Star pulls into the far parking lot from the west. (Suspect #2)_

 _1849: Gilbert enters the store and orders at the deli counter._

 _1848: Suspect #2, exits the tractor, walks around the trailer, and disappears from view._

 _1852: Suspect #2 appears back in view holding a long gun and waits near the tractor._

 _1854: Gilbert pays cash for groceries and fuel at the front cashier._

 _1856: Suspect #3 exits the green truck, walks into the store, and uses the men's room._

 _1856: Gilbert fills the truck with gas and drives to the rear parking sleeping area._

 _1858: Suspect #2 enters the green truck. All three suspects leave together in the green Ford truck and head out of the rear parking lot in an eastwardly direction._

.

"Hayden, get over here. We cracked it." That's all she says before she hangs-up the phone.

"What is out there, Ferg? We are so fucking close."

Ferg studies her features and for the first time has a conscious understanding of what it is like to be her partner. He finally comprehends Walt's clandestine attraction. Her brain is intoxicating.

Hayden and her federal entourage enter the security office and it billows at the seams.

"Pryor is on his way."

Vic nods, "I don't think they went far. They didn't get enough supplies. They didn't plan on being here long."

Ferg adds, "There are a couple of old mines to the east but not many homes."

Vic says it as Ferg thinks it, "The only thing out there is the Barlow estate."

"Oh gheez, Vic, do you think it's possible?" Ferg says.

"It's thousands of acres, Ferg. There's nothing else there."

Hayden stands watching the exchange and as Vic turns to her she says, "Is that the guy the Sheriff killed last year?"

"One of them. This is the one that was responsible for his wife's murder."

"Interesting." Is all she adds to the conversation as an agent hands her his iPad with the assessor's parcel map on display. She orders him to get the schematics.

"Barlow only had on heir, his son Branch, whom he killed. He was a deputy. The estate is suing the department but the property has been boarded up and abandoned pending litigation." Ferg fills in the narrative for Hayden.

She nods, withholding comment, because the entire situation is incomprehensible.

Pryor joins them and dismisses the lost prevention officer but not before giving him a very serious warning to keep his mouth shut and assigns and agent to stay with him to make sure no information is leaked. The Bureau takes over the security office and Ferg smooths things over with Sal.

Hayden draws out the tactical plan giving everyone assignments and teams. Vic and Ferg will be on entry teams one and two at the primary property at the main estate. The other four teams will breach the outlaying buildings. After the plan is detailed out, Vic reluctantly says, "No one knows this county like me and Ferg. I think we need to drive up and recon the main house. You can't see any vehicles from the main road."

"They know who you are Vic. That won't work." Hayden reminds her.

"Fuck." She says. "If we don't do this right, Walt is dead. They had surveillance pictures of the station so I guess they know what Ferg looks like, too."

"How would they know to go there?" An agent says from the back of the room.

"It was the biggest thing to happen in the county if not the state since Matthew Shepard. It was top news for a long time out here." Ferg explains and there is a lot of head shaking and verbal agreement.

"You won't be marginalized." Pryor says just for Vic and Ferg.

He turns toward the agents, raises his voice, and gives a very distinct order, "Mount up, we're burning daylight."

ing, and making notes. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. She tells him to fight. She tells him to remember who he is; Walt Longmire, a badass motherfucker if there ever was one.

g out of the window.

Vic sighs, "What do you want to know?"

"Everything." He turns and looks at her this time.

"He kidnapped me and my husband, tried to kill us, but Walt made a last minute deal. Walt let the sovereigns go and the two basically counted it off and Walt was left standing."

"Like Dodge City?" Pryor asks

"Like Dodge City." Vic answers

"I'll be damned." Hayden believing the myth for the first time.

"Walt killed Chance's brother in a shootout years before and Chance wasn't going to miss his opportunity to exact revenge. In the end, Walt got both brothers."

"The nephew, that's who we got here, let me see his package, Hayden." Pryor is in full Agent in Charge mode as he flips through the folder looking at the photographs reading the rudimentary forms and government documents.

"Typical sovereign, very little official government documents to leave a trail but still mainstream enough to have a cell phone." Hayden says out loud as Pryor stares at the papers.

"How long will it take for us to get some real information?" Vic lifts her palm from the top of the steering wheel checking her speed.

"It depends on his cell phone carrier but I would say we will know within the next couple of hours whether the good Mr. Gilbert was in Absaroka County on Sunday afternoon."

They stretch a few more miles down the road, "Revenge, crimes of passion, they are all related you know. If it's this Gilbert guy Walt's in real trouble." Hayden says as if she is thinking out loud.

The chirping of Hayden's phone interrupts her thoughts. A series of ah huhs and yes's follow.

"Ben Gilbert, 23 years old, last known address in Sparks, Nevada. His cell phone records have him in Wyoming the past six weeks; specifically Durant on Sunday and that's when his phone went dead. Turned off."

Vic's stomach knots and she tells them the full sordid details including the hang-ups. She doesn't leave anything to the imagination. They listen. They don't interrupt.

"If they are involved they will feel the full weight of the US Government. That I assure you, Moretti. That, I assure." Pryor says then turns his head and looks out at the vast open frontier fleeting before his eyes as he wonders about Walt Longmire and the woman sitting next to him.


	14. Chapter 14

The decision has been made. Pryor explains they will assault the compound under the cover of darkness.

"We will have air support with flir devices and our high risk entry team will take the lead. It also gives us time for the proper Federal warrants. I don't want anything to get hung up on a technicality. The AG's office is on board with the plan." He isn't asking. He's commanding.

He looks to Hayden, "Make sure the EMT's are staging and have a medical flight crew standing by as well. We won't know his condition until we find him."

She never looks up as she takes copious notes, "What about the Coroner?" She's not being insensitive. She's doing her job.

"Yeah and make sure the two closest trauma units are on stand-by."

They gear up and split up in the parking lot. The stakes are high. Reminders aren't needed. Rifles are checked and rounds chambered. Vic and Ferg exchange one last look of affirmation.

Vic takes a deep breath and recalls the nuances of training and tactical entry techniques but none of them account for the extra hard heart beats. She looks down at her boots to avoid eye contact with the SUV full of agents she doesn't know. She pulls open the Velcro strap and retightens the ballistic vest. The loud scrunch drawing attention to her nervousness. At the crossroads, the four designated entry teams' part as branches on a tree and head toward the outlaying buildings.

The last two SUV's stay straight on the main road and file into the main artery of the complex in a single line; lights switch off, taillights out, engines cut, coasting in neutral the urban vehicles roll to a silent stop short of the entry gate. The doors push open and stay open to avoid detection.

Pryor radios the helicopter and gives a silent eta by displaying two fingers in the air and drops it to one as the minute passes. The same hand, now a fist, double pumps, and they move forward, confirmation that suspects are on site. She's focused. Her actions are deliberate. The flash bang and the announcement are simultaneous. She feels her boot crunch the gravel beneath her boot as she passes through the once elegant doorway. Weaving in the smoke and the noise she follows the team leader.

"Clear." He shouts above the noise.

They listened when she briefed them on the Gilbert basement tactics. The schematics and official blueprints on file with the county assessor confirmed there is a basement. That is their destination. Clearing rooms they pass is torturous.

A crystal voice breaks through the borrowed FBI earpiece and drops into her eardrum.

"Two in custody by team three."

There's nothing more.

She wants to run ahead. She can't. She sees butchers paper on the floor.

The smoke waivers above them. It's harmless but shocking.

The two teams merge at the target door. She holds her position despite the anxiety bubbling inside. She sees the white finger tips motioning forward and it coincides with the voice in her ear.

"Moretti, Ferguson, up front."

They both move from their positions and stack behind the breacher. The metal ramrod makes easy work of the hand carved wood door. Three steps down and she hears it. Metal on metal.

"Walt!" She yells but it's drowned out by the two successive shots from the single action Springfield .45 fired by the assaulter behind her. She never saw Gilbert. She didn't need too because they did.

Gilbert slumps and falls at Walt's socked feet. His toes perch on the edge of the cement unable to sustain his weight. His handcuffed wrists suspend above his head wrapped around the metal pole.

"Walt!" She yells again making her way to him. He's filthy. That's what she notices first and it makes her feel bad. His head hangs to the side. He is lifeless.

"Walt! Get him the fuck down. Get him down." She holsters her gun and grabs his legs. She moves into a perfect deadlift position and uses her thighs and drives his weight up and suddenly he becomes weightless as Ferg takes the other side ordering her to move. He holds Walt in a bear grip. His face reddens with the weight.

They scramble to find a step stool, a ladder, anything. There's nothing.

The breacher falls to his knees, gets on all fours, "Get on top Moretti."

She climbs on his back, reaches up and unlocks the handcuffs, "Walt, I'm here." She whispers but there's no response.

His arms collapse and the cuff hits her head on the way down to his side. The pain is instant and so is the warm tingling blood flow from her scalp and seeping into her hair.

Ferg holds Walt so he won't collapse to the hard floor and the SWAT team helps lay him down on his back. The EMTs are cleared for entry and they begin their initial assessment. Vic and Ferg are pushed to the back along with the rest of the team as the medics do their work. They strap him to the flat board. The needles, the cut clothing reveal various stages of bruising on his body, but he doesn't wake up. He doesn't say a word.

"He's breathing." One of the EMTs updates the black clad crowd, "Barely."

"Life flight." It's a statement and a direction all at once.

They move with precision zipping, taping, and strapping and put their bags on his legs as they maneuver the flat board toward the stairs and past the silent and remorseful crowd.

They fall in behind them and make their way to the waiting helicopter.

"We're coming."

"We're not leaving him alone." She demands.

The pilot sizes them up, figuring their weight in his head and gives them the thumbs up. She gasps in a slight shock at the full sight of him under the ambient helicopter light. They follow directions, strap-up, belt-up, and Vic extends her fingers to touch him. She talks to him throughout the flight. She knows he can't hear her because of the wind, the engines, the blades, the noise is too great to overcome. When the emotion overwhelms her Ferg takes over and the see saw of support never stops churning for him.

They don't know how long the flight took and they don't realize how cold they are until they enter the hospital. The trauma team is waiting and after exchanging a few unintelligible terms they roll Walt away. The head physician barks orders in Latin and a few other foreign drug names with warning labels longer than symptoms. He recognizes the desperation in her face and reassures her as he does all of the others.

"We'll take care of him deputy."

"Like he was your own."

"Like he was our own." He pauses, "Because he is."


	15. Chapter 15

"You have blood in your hair." He says running his fingers through his own.

She fingers the caked patch mixed with hair and scalp, "You think he can hear us?"

He shrugs his shoulders, "I don't know." He looks over to her slumped forward in her chair, "I'd like to think so."

She rubs the red stain from the tips of her fingers, "Me, too."

"I haven't called Cady, yet." She says.

"You haven't?"

"I almost don't know what to say."

He pauses, "Do you want me to call her?"

She shakes her head, "No, Ferg, I owe it to her."

"Maybe we should tell her in person?"

"She might freak out."

"Maybe, but we'd be there, you know, instead of on the phone."

She looks at him trying not to appear weak or worse chickenshit, "Maybe."

The beeps and whirls continue along with the occasional twist from one of his large body parts. She stares at the mole on his face. It's a safe sneak like noticing Robert Redford's moles and keeping it a secret that you find the flaw attractive.

"You think they're going to take our statements tonight?" He asks.

She shakes her head.

"I'm going to tell Cady. I'll bring her back with me." He walks over to the door, looks back at Walt, and lets the door shut behind him.

Time passes, she nods on and off, slumping further in the chair. Mother Teresa's little baby sister offers to bring a cot so she will be more comfortable and she accepts.

"Should I bring a cot for your colleague?" She asks.

"Um, I dunno, his daughter will be here soon she'll probably want to stay."

She smiles, "We will make room."

"Thank you."

"Does he have a large family?" She asks.

"No, just his daughter."

"It's nice he has her. We all need family in times such as these." She presses the blankets tighter and checks the burping machines.

"The doctor will be by shortly." She says.

"Will he lose his toes?"

"The doctor will be able to answer your questions."

"Ok."

"Where is she coming from?"

"Who?"

"His daughter."

"Durant." She pauses and looks at the locked wheel of the bed, "That's in Absaroka County."

"Oh, that will take a while."

"Probably."

"Our cafeteria is open until midnight." She says and gently closes the door behind her.

The nurse's routine mirrors her own. Dealing with death is unnatural though we all will die. The dichotomy makes the situation more difficult because she does not understand her role, this new role, as a concerned friend or maybe a worried lover but whatever it is it is not welcome.

She leans forward, her hands press against the metal arms, her head rests on her knuckles and she closes her eyes. He smells like antiseptic and adhesive. The fresh gauze over his wrists, the Jobst socks on his feet, the air compressor restricting and releasing the tight material engulfing his legs, are the details of his abuse. The small cuts on his face will heal and leave something attractive behind. An added piece of character.

Her lungs fill with air and release with her thoughts about the wounds no one can see. Maybe he won't see all of them either. She hadn't. She knows that now. The revelation doesn't help. The orderly interrupts her confession as he places the cot down on the other side of his bed. He pushes on it. The legs don't collapse. He smiles and walks out without engaging in conversation.

She stands. Her fingers find their way to the small patch of bare skin on his arm and wrap around him. She sweeps away the tears that feel free to fall now. Now that it is over. Now that she knows he will live. She leans over and kisses his mole. She can't help herself.

She doesn't know how long he's been in the room and she's self-conscious about him seeing her sleeping on the cot. Vanity is the part of humanity that surfaces at the most inconvenient times.

His long white coat covers his khaki's and his black Dansko clogs complete his urban metro appeal.

"Hi." He looks up from the metal clipboard he's scribbling on. His accent evident with one word.

"Hi. How is he?" She asks smoothing down her hair that has loosened from her hair tie.

"He will live."

She sighs and wipes her face with her open palm, "But how is he." She stands.

He turns and faces her, the light catches the striations of gray at his temples, "He has four broken ribs, a broken big toe, deep contusions and bruising throughout his body, there's not enough fluid on board to produce anything so we don't know if his catheter will run clear but one of those bags is saline solution to hydrate him and I'm fully confident he has pneumonia to go along with the fluid in his lungs. We have to wait for the lab results to see if there was anything on board when he got here."

"If he was poisoned?"

"Could be poison or drugged. He was tortured. I'm sure. I saw a lot of this in Fallujah." The clipboard scrapes the metal bed post, "Listen, the body is powerful. It is resilient."

She looks at him taken by the serenity of his cut features.

"With physical therapy and time he will be alright." Australia she thinks. Definitely not English.

"Back to normal."

"Pretty much."

She smiles.

"How are you doing?" He asks.

She pauses, "I'm fine."

"That patch of blood on your head tells me otherwise. Has anyone checked that out?"

Her hand flies up to her scalp.

"No."

He steps forward. He smells like laundry. Fresh laundry.

"May I?"

She nods her head. She feels like she's cheating on him.

"It doesn't look too bad but we need to get you x-rayed to make sure. Head wounds are pretty serious."

She doesn't volunteer her history of torture.

"Did he have a cat-scan?" She asks.

His eyebrows squeeze together.

"The guys that had him, they liked baseball bats." She says.

"Ah" He says. "He had the full battery."

"Ok"

"They flew him here because we are a rated Level II Trauma Center. We will take care of him…" He pauses.

"Vic." She volunteers.

"Vic." He smiles.

"He's important."

"Of course, he's a Sheriff."

"He is important."

She doesn't look away and neither does he.

"Do you have anywhere to stay?"

She shakes the cobwebs, "I haven't thought about it."

"Casper is a long way from Durant."

Her fixation on him prevented common sense.

"There are a few pretty decent hotels about a mile down the road."

"Thanks." She says.

"By the way, I'm Nick."

"Hi, Nick."

"Maybe I can take you for a cup of coffee to get your mind off of this for a while?" He says with a half-smile.

"Thanks, Nick. I'll pass."

"The offer is always open."

"I'm in love with him." She says.

"That stops you from having coffee?" He says.

"I guess not."

"Coffee, then?"

"Raincheck."

"Raincheck."

He hangs the metal clipboard at the foot of the bed and walks over to Walt's side and leans forward pressing his hand over his forehead as a gentle father tending his baby.

"You better wake up, mate. There's a beautiful lady waiting to see you."

He turns around, "Vic, come with me. Let's check out that noggin of yours."

"I don't want to leave him alone."

"He won't be. There are a few folks out there waiting to see him. They were waiting on me to check-up on him."

"Oh" She says and smooths her hair down again.

They walk out of his room and she holds the door as it closes taking in another look at him before it shuts.


	16. Chapter 16

Pryor leans against the nurses station with his hand pressed in his pant pocket laughing at whatever is passing between him and Hayden.

Her face is animated and the conversation flows back and forth between them. It's only a glimpse but she recognizes what she is witnessing. She misses this most and wants it back.

Pryor sees her first.

"Moretti." He says through his residual smile.

"I'm surprised to see you guys here." She says.

"Why wouldn't we be here?"

"The major crime scene we left behind."

Pryor reveals a wryly smile consistent with a man with power.

"Our specialists are there, Moretti."

He steps forward pulling his hand from his pocket and places it on her forearm for a moment.

"I promised you our full resources."

Looking past her and then back again, "We have our terrorist subject-matter-experts conducting the interrogations of the two suspects we took into custody. Our forensics specialists with the Bronco and the crime scene. We have it all under control. Someone will take your statements tomorrow after you have had some time to rest and if you want to contact your department rep or county counsel. It's by the book, Vic."

"I'm sorry, Steve, it's been a long time since I've worked with resources."

"You miss Philly, don't you?"

She nods.

"I can see the reason you're still here," He shifts toward Walt's room, "but I think it would get boring."

"Sometimes"

"It's kind of funny."

"What's that?"

"For all the wide open spaces out here it has a way of boxing you in."

Steve points past her, "I think he's waiting to examine that head injury." He looks at the dried blood discoloring her hair.

She turns and Nick leans his weight on one leg, his hand motioning in the air above his head, "Let's get your head examined."

He smiles and they both smile back.

"Give me a second." She says.

"Steve, Ferg went to pick up Cady and I'm pretty sure Walt's best friend, Henry, will be with them. If they get here while I'm getting my head examined would you let them know where I am, please?"

"Absolutely" Pryor says.

"I don't really want him left alone but my head really hurts."

"Hayden will sit with him."

"Thank you for everything."

"You're welcome, Moretti."

The scan is painless but the headache is not.

"How long have your headaches persisted?" He flicks the small penlight in her pupils.

"Just over a year."

"Was there a precipitating event?" He sits close looking into her eyes.

"Yeah"

She hesitates and bites her lip. "Are you going to share or do I have to guess?" He says.

She turns and scans the ceiling as if a fairy will sprinkle dust and make it all go away. "The same guys that tortured Walt did some of the same things to me and my husband. They had an affinity for motorcycle helmets and bats."

"Vic" He waits for her to look at him, "I'm sorry that happened to you and to your husband."

"Ex-husband now."

"I'm sorry for that, too." He says.

He cleans her scalp.

"How often are your headaches?"

"A few times a week."

"Are they becoming more intense?"

"They were intense this week."

"I'm not familiar with Absaroka County but I will find a specialist for you within a commutable distance."

He stops, his mouth twists, "I know I asked you for coffee earlier but stay away from caffeine it will exacerbate your headaches."

"I'll try."

He smirks and scribes on his metal clipboard.

"How about a cup of soup instead?" He asks.

"You're persistent aren't you?"

"Yeah. I need to be persistent."

"I'm not interested, Nick."

"I'm interested in your well-being."

He sits on the round stool and spins to face her. "I crafted my skills as a doctor in war, Vic. I've been where you are. I couldn't save all of my mates."

He coughs and clears his throat.

"Watching them recover was harder sometimes than watching them die."

She takes a deep breath.

He slides closer and covers her hand, "It helped me to have someone to talk about what I'd been through without trying to shrink my head at the same time."

"Why are you in Wyoming?"

"Why is anybody here? You're either born here or fall in love here."

"You still together?"

All of his teeth shine, "Yeah, we are and have two kids." He slides open his iPhone and shows her pictures of his happy nucleus. She smiles and rubs her forehead.

"Do you ever get over it, Nick?"

"I haven't but I cope. I cope well." He slips his phone in his coat pocket. "It takes time and conversation."

"If I call you your wife's not gonna kick my ass is she?"

He laughs, "Nah, she'll cook dinner for us."

"She sounds special."

"She is."

He stands and hands her his business card.

"Let me have yours so I can call you with your referral." He says.

"You don't trust me?"

"Nope."

She hands him her card and he puts it in the same pocket as his iPhone.

"Your wife is lucky."

"She just has a thing for strays."


	17. Chapter 17

It was unremarkable. The way he recovered and healed. It came as a surprise to no one as the weeks passed by without word or mention of the events that nearly denied him his life. He saved himself for trial but the last minute plea bargain marginalized his significance in the overall plot of terror. He drums his fingers on his desk staring into space and thinking of nothing really. The pain that still plagues the back of his thighs and the constant feeling of having to pop the knuckle of his big toe linger. The door opens simultaneous to a single knock and she steps inside closing the door behind her.

"How you holding up?" She says.

"I'm fine." He says.

She steps closer but not too close. They haven't talked about anything, anything that matters, since he's been home. He finally turns to face her.

"What's up, Vic?"

"Have dinner with me tonight at my place."

"Dinner."

"Should I say supper? Is it supper in Wyoming?"

"Dinner is fine." He says. "In Wyoming."

"Is dinner fine with you?"

"I haven't seen your new place have I?"

"Nope."

He looks but doesn't speak.

"It would be nice, Walt. Just us. Just dinner."

He cracks a wryly smile, "What time."

"6:30, it's not early but it's not late either."

"Ok." He says.

Dinner is also unremarkable. The conversation between them isn't forced but it isn't frequent. He helps her clear the table and clean the dishes. He washes and she puts away. They have coffee on the couch and she flips through the channels and eventually lands on an old western of no significance.

"It's okay to talk about it, Walt." She says.

"About what." He says.

"About it." She looks at him. "About the motherfuckers that tried to kill you and nearly did."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I know you don't." She says.

He points to the television, "You know they never shot those movies here in Wyoming."

"You old enough to remember?"

He smiles, "They were mainly in California, some in Nevada and Utah."

"What's your favorite." She asks. "Western."

His fingers drum on his chest as he leans back into the sofa. His black socked feet stretch on her coffee table.

"Probably, _Shane_."

"Fucking _Shane_?" She huffs

"Yeah, it's a great movie."

"It's a good movie."

"It's great."

"It's good, Walt."

"What is your idea of great?"

" _Outlaw Josey Wales_."

His feet land on the plump carpet beneath his feet. " _Outlaw Josey Wales_. Get out of here." He says.

"It's way better than sad ass _Shane_."

"I don't know about that."

"Have you ever seen the movie, Walt?" She looks up, "Besides the original theatrical release that is?" She laughs and he smacks her with a sofa pillow.

He laughs. It's loud. It hurts deep down inside.

"That's nice." She says.

"Your smile, it's nice. I haven't seen it in a while." She smiles back.

He leans forward and he kisses her. It's impulsive and she feels the air escape his body as she relaxes into him. His palm fills the back of her head as he pulls her into him. He's forceful. She likes it. The unsnapping and unzipping takes place amongst the moans and the groans and their clothes don't make it all the way off while they poke and grab.

"I've missed you." He says into her mouth and she opens hers more and it surprises him as much as his admission.

Just as suddenly as she surrendered herself to him she stops. He still grips her and he waits, his hand holding her in place.

"It's alright." He says into her ear. His voice is a hot trail down her spine prompting an unexpected shiver.

Her chin tucks down into his neck. "It's been so long." She pauses. "Since everything."

"I know." He says.

His fingers feather across her neck and his face flushes, "I can't really talk about it." He pauses and pulls her hand to his chest.

She pulls back, "How do we do this then?"

"What?"

"You keep this shit all bottled up inside and expect me to what, Walt, to just fuck you whenever you decide you want to get laid."

"It's not like that."

She pulls her hand back but he doesn't let go.

"Fuck it's not."

"Vic."

He pins her to him and starts at her neck and sucks her lip into his mouth and holds it between his teeth. Their teeth click when he surges back toward her but she retreats from him and forces her hands back to her thighs.

"This shit will kill you. I know."

"Vic."

"I'm not letting it go, Walt."

"I don't want you to let me go."

"How am I supposed to know that?"

"I'm telling you. I'm telling you now."

"I can't do this." She pulls her hair back, "Not like this."

"What do you want from me?"

"I just want you to be honest."

"I don't lie to you."

"Only to yourself."

He runs his fingers through his hair and leans forward looking for his boots. She reclaims her side of the couch and watches him step into the brown leather that hasn't yet conformed to his footprint.

"Do you still have headaches?" She asks. "Mine still haven't gone away. Not completely anyway."

"Sometimes." He says and stands up stomping his feet to ensure a proper fit.

"You don't have to leave." She says

"I think its best."

She stands to face him. "Really?"

"Probably not." He says and turns away rubbing his jaw.

"Shane didn't get the girl you know."

His lips thin, "He got her."

"But he spared her."

"Something like that."

"Just so he could go off and die alone." She shakes her head, "It's pretty pathetic."

"He didn't die."

"Says who."

"It's left open to interpretation." He slides his hat down tight.

"This isn't" She says.

"I know." He says.

She fills her lungs at his response.

"Good night, Vic."

"Good night." She says as she closes the door behind him.


	18. Chapter 18

She tells him almost everything keeping the parts that make her sound like a lunatic to herself while sitting in a 50's retro diner.

"How does it all make you feel?" He asks taking a long hard pull of his Neapolitan milkshake.

"How can you drink that?" She asks.

"Because it's good." He grins.

She sips through the long wide straw, her hands slipping on the bleeding metal cup, the taste of vanilla lands on her tongue.

"You're deflecting. You're really good at that."

"I learned from the Yoda of deflection."

He takes another long drag and shakes his head clearing it of the frost freeze headache.

"You are such a dork, Nick."

He smiles. "I think that's why wife loves me."

They sink further into the worn red leather bench seats. The silence between them is comfortable and a few swallows later he admits, "He talked to me." He sips, "About you."

She watches his perfectly curled eyelashes move up and down

"I don't want to betray him, Vic."

"But"

"But, I think it would be a mistake if you walked away."

Driving home she thinks about him. She can't stop. Two hours later she pulls in front of his cabin and walks up the steps. Her last missteps were here. She is sure her motives are different and before she can talk herself out of anything she is or isn't doing the new unstained pine door swings open. His shirt is untucked and it rides up one side revealing his pale flesh as he places his Winchester next to the door. The stock lines up to his bare foot. His toes curl for a moment gripping the wood floor. His face is blank as his hands fall down to his hips. She almost panics but slides her hands in her back pockets and then pulls her hair back.

"Sorry, to drop in like this."

He steps aside, "It's ok, Vic." He looks past her, over her shoulder, as she passes through.

She wants to make it better but she doesn't know how to rewrite their history. She can't. He can't. That's the problem. His back is to the door and his face contorts as the thoughts ramp and collides into his tongue pushed against his lower lip. The words are stuck like they always are.

"I had lunch with Nick."

His lips straighten. His tongue pulls back in place and he looks away. She waits for his full attention and notices the shift in weight and his eyes finally meet hers.

"Are you seeing him?" His hand rolls along with the thoughts and the words. He's been here before. The pace of his words quickens, "I mean is that why you know the other night?"

She knows what this is. They've been here before.

"What difference would it make?" She says.

She matches his pose, "He's married, you know." Her eyebrows clinch, "I made that mistake once, and I will never make it again."

"I know, Vic." He runs his long fingers through his hair and it feathers like a peacock before it falls back into place.

"I'm sorry." He says.

"Why do you do this shit?"

"Why are you here?"

"I don't know. I thought. I don't know what I thought."

He steps a little closer testing the waters.

"Why did you go see Nick?"

"We have lunch a couple of times a month. He was really there for me when you were in the hospital."

"I didn't know." He steps a little closer. Close enough to touch her but he doesn't as he fills his front pockets with his fists.

"We talked a lot when no one was around." He pauses, "Which wasn't often." He lips curl.

He moves forward into her space and she doesn't move away. She looks up into his eyes and he doesn't look away.

"I want to tell you things." He whispers and he pulls her bangs aside with this index fingers. "The things I want to say are beautiful, Vic."

"Tell me." She says.

He sighs and looks toward the ceiling and back at her, "I want to tell you that I miss you that I want to work on it, whatever it is, however we define it."

He can feel her warm exhale run down between them.

"I know you want more from me."

"I do." She says.

"It's not all pretty."

"Fuck, don't I know." She says hanging her hand on his shirt tail.

He wraps his hand around her hip, "Vic, the other night." He pauses, "I left because it reminded me of Donna."

Maybe it would hurt less if he had slapped her.

"What?" She says stepping away from him.

"She always wanted me to talk and I did. I talked to her about a lot of things and it was easy for me to do. I've wanted to talk to you but it's never right with us."

She can feel her face get hot and her stomach clinch. She tries to figure out if she's mad or if she's embarrassed. It's something worse. She feels inadequate.

"Since the other night." He says not stopping now that he's started, "I finally figured out that I care about what you think of me."

She feels the lump in her throat, the tightening in her chest, and the mad desire to leave while the endless reel of regret plays through her mind.

"Vic." He says and closes the space between them. "I don't want to need you." He shakes his head, "I don't want to love you." His eyes fill, "Because all of that would mean that every thought you have about me matters, that every time you look at me it changes everything."

The tears fall down his cheek but he ignores them.

"I could talk to her Vic because it didn't matter what she thought. She didn't matter."

"It's not ok." She says because it's all she can manage.

He shakes his head, "I know, Vic." Another tear eases from the corner of his eye and disappears in the lines of his face. "You're what matters to me."

"But." She stops as the words get stuck in her throat.

"You've always mattered." He pulls her hand into his, "Even when you shouldn't have."

He moves closer and she meets him half-way.

"Did Nick tell you that I love you?" He asks.

She shakes her head, "No. He said he would never betray you."

"I love you." He says and his thumb touches her lips, "But I'm not loving you right."

"What are you saying, Walt? It's you and not me?"

He shakes his head, "No." He grabs her shirt and pulls her into him. He buries his head in her neck, "It's both of us, Vic. We keep hurting each other."

"I know." She says into his big arm wrapped around her.


	19. Chapter 19

She didn't have to see him for the next couple of days and that was alright with her. She decides not to think about him. She relaxes and does the things she would never admit to anyone. She watches HGTV and steals ideas while eating white cheddar skinny popcorn. Before the late afternoon weather shifts she laces her running shoes and draws a hot bath planning on the water cooling just enough for her sweaty return home.

iTunes resets for no explainable reason on her iPhone and the Adele playlist blasts in her ears. She smashes fast forward before she begins to cry and lands on The Best of David Bowie.

He had asked her to stay and even offered to sleep on the couch. He actually looked wounded when she refused but he didn't try to talk her into it. He put his arm around her waist and told her good night. She's not sorry for leaving him at his door she's just sorry for them never getting it right. Never. She rounds the corner and she sees him before she takes her second step. Her heart races faster and harder. His long legs reach the third step down from the porch. His hatless combed hair, hoodie and worn blue jeans, aren't as alluring as the potted plant he's holding in his huge hands between his legs. She strides up the walkway trying to be calm and cool and relaxed. He smiles as he stands and it almost ruins her composure.

"I hope it's ok that I waited." He points to the ground, "I saw your truck in the driveway and figured you would be back soon." The powers of deduction. He's smart she thinks and that's part of his charm.

"It's ok." She smiles back, "It's your turn."

She wants to kiss him but doesn't know if it would be welcome. She walks past him and he turns in behind her. He holds the screen door open and he stands too close. It's on purpose and she likes it. His chest presses gently against her back and he kisses the wet hollow of her neck holding the plant just in front of her view.

"This is for you." He says into her ear. "I know you don't like carnations. I thought I would take a chance on a plant instead."

"Thank you." She unlocks the door and they go through, his hand is on the back of her waist, but she doesn't think that is on purpose. That is a habit.

"You're salty." He says with a grin licking his lips.

What she wants to do to him doesn't align with her present physical condition.

"Ahm," is all she can muster before he interrupts her.

"This is bad timing." He seeks confirmation.

Her hands point toward her chest, "I'm all sweaty and gross."

"You're kinda cute all mussed up." He says and she shakes her head wondering what alien has possessed his body. His instincts kick in and attempt to salvage whatever this is he's doing.

"Dinner. Would you like to go grab a burger or something to eat? I'm pretty sure I owe you a burger or two."

He sets the plant on her coffee table next to the Guns & Ammo magazine and his eyes brighten.

"I think I'll pass." She says

He doesn't play wounded. "Ok, Vic."

They are ruining it again and they both are aware of their inabilities to get in sync.

"Hey, Walt." She says, her voice light, "I really need to bathe and I don't want to go out tonight. I had planned on staying in."

He follows his heart, it's got him this far, "I'll bring us back something. Something healthy since you're working out."

She smiles and his heart speeds up, "That would be nice." She says and stands on her tip toes and kisses his cheek as she presses her keys in his hand. After everything, she doesn't need to explain her hypervigilance for safety and that she will dead bolt the door behind him when he leaves.

They eat in relative unforced silence and he offers to rub her feet while they watch the end of the political debate and the subsequent recap with the roundtable of pundits. They talk ideology and dreams and disappointments. They laugh and challenge each other's beliefs finally talking about some of the things they should talk about until the late night hours.

She offers him the couch and he accepts neither surprised by the suggestion nor the acceptance. He'll never be able to tell you what time it was and in the end it doesn't matter because he woke to her lips pressed against his.

"Come to bed." She whispers in his ear between bites on his ear lobe.

He wraps his arms around her waking from the dreamy hazy fog and kisses her deeply. He doesn't notice her groan, at first, until it's followed by a few more with his mixed in.

"Walt." Her breath is hot and sweet against his skin.

"Are you sure?" He asks and she leans up pressing her palms against his chest and in the dim light emanating from the bedroom he can see her nod. She grabs his belt buckle leading him to her bedroom. His mind is racing with each of the fourteen steps to the edge of her bed. He tells himself not to blow it. Don't ruin it he says. It has to be better than the first time. That was a mistake he tells himself. Her arms wrap around his neck and she pulls him closer. Despite his best effort to take his time and savor every touch and every kiss. He can't.

She follows his lead just as she does with everything he thinks and their hands are everywhere. Their kisses are incomplete as they try to taste and lick and suck every inch of each other. When he pins her to the bed she doesn't fight, she doesn't resist, and the strange smile of satisfaction fills her face. The first time doesn't take long but he doesn't stop and he doesn't ask permission because she is right there with him. They welcome the dawning morning light wrapped around and in each other and afterward he fills her neck with kisses as he pulls her into his chest.

He doesn't tell her he loves her. The words alone don't mean anything anyway he thinks.

"Are you ok?" He asks.

"Yeah. Are you?" She asks.

"I think so." He teases and squeezes his arm just a bit tighter.

She caresses his arm wrapped around her and smiles into his elbow.

"Does all my hair bother you?" He whispers.

"What?" She says. "Why?"

"I don't know."

"It's nice. It's soft."

He smiles into her neck and he can feel himself falling. This is the reason. He thinks. This is why he's been such an asshole. There's no coming back from her, from this, from how he feels about her. He feels her body relax into his and a soft kiss on his forearm.

"It took some time for it all to fill in and grow back."

She doesn't know if it was from the hospital or what they did to him.

"I'm sorry, Walt."

"I knew you would find me." He says.

"I was scared they killed you." She says.

She wraps her hand over his.

"When it got bad I always thought of you."

"How am I supposed to take that?"

"I guess I'm trying to say that I need you." His forehead leans against her, "I always have, Vic."

"I ah." She clears her throat but the words won't push out as she turns in his arms and kisses his lips. She looks into his eyes, "I never would have stopped looking for you."

They make love again and it's mindful and purposeful and she tells him she loves him. He feels it. He believes it. This time, when he tells her he loves her, his voice melts like butter in her ear as his body dissolves into hers. They never talk about all the other things they should and when they finally wake up in each other's arms they both know it will never be the same again.


	20. Chapter 20

They stay nestled together as new lovers. The innate barriers are non-existent when she says, "I'm sorry, Walt. I'm sorry for everything that happened."

"What?" He says and looks over her shoulder leaning his chin into her, "Look at me."

She turns and faces him, their eyes seeking understanding, "It's not your fault."

"If we weren't arguing you wouldn't have been distracted."

"No." He says.

"I saw the surveillance video. You were a million miles away, Walt. That was all because of me."

He strokes the side of her face with the back of his fingers and rolls onto his back, his fingers fall to his chest. His cheeks billow and purge all of the air from his lungs. He winces from the pain but turns his face so she doesn't see his evident discomfort. Maybe it's fear of revelation or maybe its habit but he rests his forearm over his eyes as he cuts, "Hanging from that fucking pipe I had a lot of time to think."

She turns on her side, her head resting on her palm, and she looks at his long striking torso highlighted from the morning sun. She can see the remnants of the deep bruises along his rib cage. Shades of light tint the intermittent purple striations that traverse his thighs. Despite her best effort to be strong and courageous for him allowing him the comfort of telling her what she has wanted to hear, what she needs to know to be with him, she can't help the gasp of air escape and the tears that fall from her eyes. She gently touches his side.

"Walt."

He doesn't look at her. He can't permit himself to meet her where she is because the thought of being weak and helpless are two emotions he cannot allow himself to experience. Not in front of her. He stuffs it down and it backs up to his throat and he tries to exhale again and when he does he chokes a little.

"Walt."

He can hear the tears in her voice. The sympathy and empathy she emotes make him angry. His insides twist and turn as he tries to reconcile his archaic values and his present situation.

His palms open and cover his face, "Don't make me talk about it, Vic."

"I won't."

She closes the small distance between them and blades him with her body, her arm wrapping around his waist, she kisses the side of his chest and lays her head there.

She sniffles. "I'm so sorry, baby."

His hands grip tighter around his face as if the darkness it creates will somehow shoo the monsters away but it does nothing to protect him from the rage stored inside his cells pressing to flow from their captive. Perhaps it's the warmth of her arm providing comfort or the weight of her head that finally break the dam. The wallow bellows from his soul and it's loud and it hurts and the bed shakes a little. She doesn't know what to do because she was alone when it happened to her. The wallow is followed by another not quite as sharp and before she can formulate whether to stay still or speak he's up and he's out of the bed leaving her body twisted from the loss of his body as a placeholder.

He pulls his t-shirt on first and scoops his boxers from the floor next to his jeans. His boots dangle from one of his big hands and his face is contorted and ravaged as he looks at her. Nothing comes out of his mouth and he chooses not to force it. His embarrassment is beyond his comprehension. It's only a fraction of a second but it feels much longer before she pulls on her tank top and shorts and catches up to him at the front door.

The tears flood his face and the snot stuffs his nose before falling from his nostrils. He pauses while he fights with the door knob, her hand lands on the hollow of his back, and she says just for them, "I still love you. I'll always love you." His palm opens and presses the wall above his head. She reaches around him and turns the door knob opening the pathway of escape. Her arms fall to her sides; her head hangs down, respectful of his shame and promising not to bear witness to it.

"I ah," is all he can manage though he wants to give her more he's not capable. As the door closes behind him she knows this is the man he really is despite her efforts to recreate what he has always shown her. She's always known that he will permanently be in command of what he shares or doesn't share and that it is his decision and no one else's. After showering and brewing coffee she deliberately processes the last twelve hours of her life. She doesn't want to be in a tailspin. She's spent most of her life in one spin or another and always about someone other than herself. Nick helped her see that after she cursed him out. He was right. The past months have been the only time she has put herself first and not tried to live up to anyone's expectations but her own. That's why she knew. She knew what would happen before she asked him to stay and it's because she wanted it to happen, for herself.

She thumbs the virtual keys on her smartphone and gets an instant reply. The long distance drive allows for her to cry without anyone seeing and enough time to get her face together before she pulls into the visitor spot at the hospital. Only then, out of all the times she's made this drive, does the irony hit her. It's a fucking hospital. She sends him a text letting him know she's there and he meets her outside and opens her door where she falls into his arms despite herself.

"That bad, huh?" He says like a big brother discovering the black eye and the pulled hair.

She shakes her head into his chest.

"I'm sorry to dump on you, Nick." She let's go and faces him. "You're my only friend in this fucking state." She says.

"Oh, I'm sure you have at least one more." He grins.

"Do you have a minute?" She asks.

"No, I had you drive two-hours because I don't have time for you."

"Asshole." She says.

He laughs and she laughs. She tells him the important pieces and he stands and listens without expression.

"I'm not a shrink, Vic. I'm just a man so you know you have to take this with a grain of salt." He says.

He looks over to the green hedges, spits, and looks back at her.

"Walt's an old school dude. He's hard as fuck. I had a Commander like him when I was deployed. Just a real hard and solid dude but it was really a mask, you know, because he was sensitive as hell. That's how they are, those kind of men." He pauses and restarts. "He's probably embarrassed that he broke down in front of you."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"It does because he loves you and that makes him vulnerable which as you know isn't comfortable for anyone." He flashes his beautiful smile.

"I get that but to just walk out."

"He didn't have a choice."

"Bullshit. We all have choices."

"That's not the man you chose."

There it is. The bullshit card he pulls every time. She checks her phone no less than six times on her way home but there aren't any messages or missed calls and she gets mad for checking. Fueled by the destructive combination of frustration and anger she stops and orders a double bacon cheeseburger, onion rings, fries, and a coke. She decides she doesn't give a fuck even when she throws away what she can't eat. Her stomach starts to hurt about three miles from home and it goes into full tilt mode when she pulls into her driveway and parks next to the Bronco.


	21. Chapter 21

He stands when he sees her truck turn the corner. His stomach still cramps and he's pretty sure his eyes are still red. Her door slams and he makes his way down her walkway taking off his hat and smoothing his hair to no avail. They both slow when they see each other and he half expects her to punch him. His hesitancy and her fear don't propel them forward. The three-quarter turn of his hat in his hand breaks their stand-off as she steps forward and wraps her arms around his neck. He leans down but she's still on her tip-toes. He sighs into her neck and he stays there.

"Let's go inside." She says.

"Give me a minute." He says, closing his eyes, and he turns his ear into her shoulder.

She doesn't get what this is; the significance of this moment.

He lifts his head and drops his arms to his side; his hat hits his thigh, "I'm sorry for the way I left this morning."

She nods and glances his cheek with her fingertips. She moves past him toward the house and he turns in behind her.

"Vic." He says.

She turns and he says, "I don't want to go inside."

"Huh?"

He turns his head and spits on the grass shifting his weight and moving his hat to his head, "I, ah, I don't think, um." His lips curl as if it would temper his confession.

"Ok. Walt." She says.

His eyes avert and come back, "I just seem to hurt you and that's not what I want to do. It's like the complete opposite." He says slightly out of context.

She's facing him full on now, "Was I supposed to think I'm different from the rest?"

He tilts his head like a dog, "What?"

"I'm sure you loved them, too. In your own way." She replies.

"That's not true." He says.

She matches his head tilt challenging him.

He looks up searching the sky paralyzed by his inadequacies.

"Go home, Walt." She unlocks her door and he closes the distance.

"Vic."

"You said what you wanted to say."

"I just, uhm."

She stands her ground and he stands his. The quicksand sinking beneath their feet. They revert back to their common denominator.

"Don't worry, Walt, I won't play any passive aggressive games with you. I'll see you at work in the morning." With that, she closes the door, and leaves him standing on her porch.

Her vow not to cry lasts for a minute or two and she makes busy with laundry and cleaning, only thinking about him, he's everywhere. He's in her skin. There's no way to wash him clean now.

The days turn to weeks and they maintain their professional status which for them means they avoid each other. To their detriment, the excuses to get coffee and food only last so long, and they find themselves in uncomfortable silences. Neither reaches for the other. Their walls of defense are impenetrable.

He spends his time alone. His few attempts at reconnecting with Henry have fallen flat after Henry took over the Pony. He doesn't know how to fix that either. He notices the extra days she takes off and the obvious shift in her mood. She's happy and he doesn't know what to do with that. It confuses him. He genuinely thinks it should be about him because for him, it's all about her. That's what he tells himself. There aren't any more books to read or friends to talk too. This time, the self-reflection is genuine, or so he decides as he isolates himself.

The call to duty supersedes their unspoken agreement when Doc Bloomfield notifies them about a suspicious death.

"Her primary care physician signed off on the death certificate because she has been in his long term care but when I started the autopsy I noticed some suspicious bruising and petechial spotting in her eyes."

He notices the fullness of her hips when she bends over to look and he catches himself looking and he can feel his face flush even though he feels he has the right to look. He snaps his eyes back to Doc Bloomfield and verifies he was caught and his face gets hotter. If she notices, she spares him, "Did she have a specific diagnosis?"

"A multitude of complications but none of them with a fatal prognosis."

She pulls out her notebook and gets about the business of doing her job confirming that petechiae is consistent with strangulation and he gathers the next-of-kin and medical records

"You want me to meet you at her house or what?" She says.

"We can double-up." He pauses. "If you want."

"That's fine, Walt."

The relief he feels that she said his name is disproportionate to the action itself. She's strangely comfortable in the passenger seat and picks up where she left off.

"May Belle Smith, 86 years old, lives with her son Rufus Smith." She holds the inches think folder, "She had a shitload of problems."

He looks over his shoulder and back out the window rubbing his hand over his three day beard, "How've you been?"

"Fine." She says. Her ponytail looks longer and thicker and it flops on her shoulder as she looks out of her window. "And you?" She asks without looking at him.

"Good. Working on stuff."

"Finally fixing your bathroom?"

"I finished that about a month ago."

"Good for you."

He glances back out of his window and looks straight ahead, "I should have done better but I didn't know how." He skips a beat, "But I should have been."

She doesn't respond and looks through the same windshield. She wants to tell him it's alright but it's not and she can't tell him that either.

"I'm sorry about everything, Vic." He says and adds and glances in her direction, "I'd like us to be better."

"Are you doing better?" She asks.

Another mile passes and he turns right onto Citrus Road, "I've been working on me." He says and she looks at him and he sees his reflection in her Ray-Bans. The Bronco comes to a slow stop and he parks a few doors down from May Belle's address. They stride up to the front door and instinctively look for anything suspicious. Before he knocks he looks at her, "You smell that?"

"Yeah." She rolls her eyes, "Fuck."

Walt makes the Sheriff's Department announcement and no one answers. She goes to the back of the house trying to peek through the covered windows. She makes her way back to the front.

"Nothing."

"Back door may be easier to kick." He says.

He stands square and his huge boot lands in the sweet spot and the door comes off the hinges and falls as far as it can in the cluttered house. They follow the smell and find Rufus in his Lazyboy less the back of his head.

"Motherfucker." She says and he looks around taking notice of the handgun on the floor next to the easy chair.

They clear the house and return to Rufus.

"Looks like he had the decency to leave a note." She says, "I'm going to get my kit."

He stands over Rufus, cants his head, and reads the confession. He killed May Belle to put her out of her misery but it only took two hours for the guilt to consume him. He hopes to join her in heaven. He smacks his teeth and shakes his head.

She starts taking photographs and he bags and tags evidence. They work in silence as partners anticipating each other's moves and needs. He thinks how beautiful she is, more beautiful than ever, and how much he's at fault for ruining them.

"I'm guessing Rufus has been here about 30 hours or so." She says.

"Hmmm….that's about right." He says.

"You seeing anybody?" He asks and he regrets it but he wants to know.

Her eyes snap in his direction.

"I've noticed the extra days you've been taking off and you seem happy." His voice sinks, "I know it's not because of me." He gives her a faint smile at his sarcasm. She continues snapping pictures, staging the ruler in various places for measurement comparisons. They continue to work in tandem and in silence.

"You've been working out?" His lips curl like it's a compliment trying to push through the cemented wall.

"I always workout. You know that." She quips and notices the deep blue resolution of his eyes and how much she wants to just look at him.

"You lifting more weights? I mean it looks good." He shakes his head, "I didn't mean it like that I just mean you look healthy."

He picks up the Smith and Wesson .38 revolver and empties the live rounds into his palm. She stops taking photographs and the large 35 mm digital camera with the wide angle lens hangs from her neck almost too big for her frame.

"I better be." She says.

"Better be, what?" He asks.

"Healthy."

She stares at him, looks down at the camera and directly at the back of Rufus blown out head. She pushes her hair aside and pulls her lips in.

"Look Walt." She says. "I haven't figured out a way to tell you."

He clenches his fists to his side, his grip tightens around the gun, "Tell me, what?" He asks and shifts his weight.

Her hands hold the sides of the camera, "I'm pregnant." She says and he drops the gun on his tender big toe.


	22. Chapter 22

He steps closer to her dislodging the gun from his foot and it distracts him from his progress. The momentary interruption allows him to gain his poise. Their eyes meet and the wood floor creeks under the weight of Vic shifting her hips.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I just found out ." She glances at Rufus and back to him, "I've been trying to figure out how to tell you, Walt. It's not like this is easy."

He lowers his voice, "What do you want to do?"

She brushes her bangs aside, "I don't know, Walt." Her frustration and fear bubble to the surface, "What do you want to do?"

His hand lands on his hip as he looks at her completely lost. He turns back toward Rufus and retrieves the dropped gun and places it in the evidence bag. They finish processing the scene and wait for his body to be picked up. The Bronco squeaks and rattles, "I'm not seeing anybody." She says out of the blue. "The baby is yours."

"I never doubted that, Vic."

When she doesn't reply he says, "I didn't mean it like that. I just meant…"

"I know what you meant." She says and he looks over his arm, his face firm and full, she meets his stare, "I've been checking out other departments." She says, "That's why I needed the extra days off."

"You have this all figured out." He says gritting his teeth.

"No, Walt. I don't have this all figured out." Her voice elevated and matching his quiet fury.

The door slams and lack of conversation make it obvious to everyone at the station there is not happiness in paradise. Ferg and Ruby exchange shoulder shrugs and eye rolls just as they have all year. As the afternoon drifts past and Ferg leaves to shag radio calls she walks into his office unannounced.

"Will you take me to get my truck." She commands in the form of a question.

He stands without argument, pulls on his hat and jacket, and places his hand on the back of her waist as he has done for the past years. She stops on the sidewalk, her voice reasonably calm, "I know we need to talk about this."

He nods and scratches his beard, "Will you be around tomorrow?"

She nods her head, "Maybe we can have lunch."

"Ok."

On the short drive to Durant Memorial they work out the small simple details of lunch and the next day at twelve on the dot he knocks on her door. She greets him in cutoff jeans and a t-shirt. He drinks her in with his eyes sorry that it keeps going wrong for them. He pushes the paper bag forward with caution and she smiles and he smiles back.

"It's just some stuff." He says like that clarifies anything.

"Thank you."

He follows her to the kitchen and she empties the bag of ice cream, 7-Up, crackers, and the latest issues of American Baby and Parents magazines.

"I raised a couple of eyebrows at the store this morning." He points and his lips pull inward. When he leans forward she meets him and his arms wrap around her, his chin falls into her neck, and he strokes her hair.

"I'm sorry, Walt." She says into his chest. "I didn't do this on purpose."

"It's just as much my fault." He says into the side of her neck. "We should have talked about it."

"I'm on the pill." She says, "I don't know how this could have happened."

He chuckles in her ear and she says, "You know what I mean."

His arms fall to his sides and his palms find the countertops as he leans back into them.

"I made some turkey sandwiches for lunch. Nothing fancy." She says.

He traces her arm with his fingertips, "I don't want us to be mad anymore." He says.

"I think that depends."

"On what."

"What we decide."

"Do you want our baby?" He asks.

"Do you?" She challenges.

"Of course, I do, Vic." His fingers find hers and he holds onto them lightly.

They don't talk about anything of significance during lunch until he says, "I don't want you to leave."

"You've said that before."

"I meant it then and I mean it now." He says.

"You didn't act like it."

"I didn't act like a lot of things." He says moving closer to her.

"Don't say anything but the truth, Walt." Her face contorts.

"I know I can be pretty self-absorbed." He says with his hands on her knees, "I'm working on that." His hands move up her thighs and rest there, "But none of that means I don't love you because I do."

"I don't want you to love me because of this." She says.

"I love you more because of this."

She holds her head down and wipes her palm against her face. He waits for her to look at him and when he does he asks, "Do you love me?"

She nods her head.

"Say it." He says and she does.

"Let's fix it, then."

She shakes her head, "Walt." They look at each other, "I can't deal with your man-up stuffing it all in bullshit." Her exasperation comes to a head. She holds her open palm on the top button of her jeans.

"Vic, I'm built that way."

"I know Walt and I don't know how to live with it."

"I'm trying to fix it."

"You're not broken don't you get it?"

"No, I suppose I don't."

"You keep a part of yourself tucked away, the most important part, but I want to love all of you, Walt." She puts her other hand over his, "I want the best for both of us."

He presses forward and kisses her lips softly, "You mean all three of us."

She wraps her arms around him and thinks how she will smell like him and that's ok because she misses him. He holds her and squeezes tighter afraid to let her go. When she whispers, "Show me how much you love me?"

"If I do I'm not going to stop."

"Never." She says.

"Never."

* * *

 **It reads like the end but it's not though it will take a while to get there.**


	23. Chapter 23

They spend the afternoon with their limbs intertwined with each other on the couch keeping their uncertainty deep within themselves. He asks to come with her to the upcoming doctor's appointment and she agrees.

"I want to wait to tell my parents." She says.

"Are you worried?"

He asks and when she says yes he doesn't follow through and remains quiet silently reflecting the situation they find themselves in and as reality begins to seep into his pores the euphoria of a new life gently dissipates.

He leans closer and traces his finger down her bare arm, "Do you want to get married?" He asks.

She shakes her head before she answers, "No." Her voice falls off into the distance.

He absorbs her refusal, leans forward, and tells her, "I love you, Vic."

"I love you, too." She says.

That's the way it is with them. They walk the fine line with each other, careful not to offend, and discretely anxious. After the doctor confirms their pregnancy and the due date they don't see each other for two days and it's not because they are angry or immature it's because they don't know what to do about it or each other.

She clicks and minimizes windows as she searches for the lowest round trip fare to Philadelphia while she sips her nearly frozen Gatorade. She plays with the number of adults traveling box about a dozen times before she calls him. She blows her breath in and out, pulling her hair back, wondering what is wrong with her and with them. On the fourth ring, she's conditioned to hang up but when she hears his voice she realizes he's changed his answering machine. Her heart stops for a moment. The jealousy and the anger creep in; did he change it for her or did he change it for her?

Though she tries to cut the edge from her voice it's still there, "Walt, it's me. I mean it's Vic will you call me, please? Thanks."

Before she sets her phone on the table it rings back.

"Hey, I was outside."

"I'm going to Philadelphia to tell my parents."

"Ok"

"That's all, Walt."

"Ok." He says.

He looks at the dead phone and rubs his open palm along his neck. It's not that he doesn't care it's that he doesn't know how to do this with her. He pushes the keys by memory and he doesn't give her a chance to be defensive by asking, "Vic, would you like for me to go with you?" He breathes, "I want to go with you."

"I don't know, Walt."

"You didn't get pregnant by yourself."

She snorts, "It's not like you asked me to tell Cady with you."

When he waits a beat too long to answer she follows, "Have you told Cady?"

She pictures his eyebrows rising and his weight shifting and his hand in the air trying to help him capture his words, "Not yet."

"When did you change your answering machine?" She asks completely out of context and he answers without hesitation.

"Just before I came back to work." He pauses weaving the clues, "The first time."

They both toss and turn in their separate beds and when she stops fighting it she surfs the web looking at baby furniture perplexed at the expense while he wakes and goes to the station to wait for her. She comes to work early because she wants to be there before him but when she sees the wild flowers on her desk she knows he's beat her to the punch. She walks past her desk, dropping her bag, and into his office. He's standing, waiting for her, shifting his weight and tugging his belt.

"Hey."

"Hey."

His long legs and ceremoniously extra open shirt button make her smile despite herself. It's an invitation he thinks and he accepts it as he steps forward and tenderly pulls her close and as he rests his hand on her hip his head comes to a soft pause just next to hers. His hips sway to the music no one hears. She follows his lead and eventually closes her eyes.

"I couldn't sleep last night." He whispers.

"Me neither." She says and she soaks in the citrus and sage scent and her body reacts to the strength of him holding her so assuredly.

"I don't want to go two more days without laying my eyes on you." He kisses her ear and follows to her neck.

"You'll miss me next weekend then." She says and kisses the hollow of his neck.

He keeps her in his arms and looks at her, "I want to be there with you, Vic."

She rolls her eyes and smiles and pulls her lips in, "I want you with me."

They stand in the middle of his office with the sun peaking up for its morning yawn and kiss deeply and hungrily. When they come up for air she says, "Thank you for my flowers."

"You're welcome." He smiles, his lips still wet, "They're wild just like you."

"That's why you love me." She teases.

"Maybe." He teases back.

"Maybe?" She turns in his arms and he wraps his arms around her waist and leans forward on her shoulder.

"Taming you is part of the fun." He bites her ear lobe and gently grinds it in his teeth causing an unexpected shriek.

"Walt." She says out of breath, her face hot, gripping his arms.

"I'm not letting go, Vic." He says near her ear. "I'm never letting go."

"It's going to be hard to hang on, Walt."

"I'm not going to quit on us."

She closes her eyes and relaxes in his arms, "It won't always be like this." She says.

"I hope not."

"What?" She laughs and immediately blushes as she feels the evidence of what he's talking about against the low edge of her waist.

A deep groan escapes from his lips, "I mean I hope it's always like this." He groans a little more, "But maybe not at work." His hot breath floats on her neck and when she tries to turn in his arms he holds her in place.

"Stay there." He says and nibbles the corner of her neck and he waits for her futile resistance to ebb. "It's almost time for Ruby to get here. If you turn around we both will get fired."

"That's the cold shower I needed. It would be like getting busted by our mom."

"Exactly." He says.

She steps out of his grip, turns around, and slides her hand between his legs and says, "Save that for later."

He drops his eyes and grins, "I will if you will."


	24. Chapter 24

He saved it for later. That's what he tells her while they have dinner together and Dorothy's eyebrows rise six ways to Sunday when he reaches over with his fork and tastes her meatloaf soaked in brown gravy. She keeps chewing taking the overt action in stride understanding that his deliberateness is a proxy for what he will never say to her or to anyone else.

"Vic." He says like there are five other people at the table, "I'm having lunch with Cady on Friday."

She looks up, wipes her mouth, drinks the rest of her milk without gagging, flattens her lips, and crooks her neck. She watches him and realizes that this is one of their problems.

"Am I supposed to read into what you're not saying?" She challenges him.

"What?"

She leans forward, lowers her voice, "Here's the deal. I'm tired of guessing. I'm not a suspect so you need to say what you mean."

"I do, Vic."

"If you're going to do this I'm leaving."

He looks away and back at her. His face is like thunder. He clears his throat, puts his fork down, and stares at his baked chicken with broccoli and green beans.

His tongue caresses his eye tooth and he thinks about finishing his dinner or getting up and leaving. He exercises his other option and looks up at her and says, "I want to tell Cady in person and I think it may be better if I tell her alone but I want to talk to you about it because I figure you and Cady may have talked about stuff when all that shit was happening." He clears his throat again, pushes his broccoli over, and takes a sip of water. When he looks up at her his eyes are watery and turning red and he says, "I want to know what you think about it, about what we should do?"

She exhales but she can't blow out the fragility or how she feels about him at this moment and in an instant of panic she asks, "Will you stay with me tonight?"

He rubs his thumb against his fingers and shakes his head, "I don't have a change of clothes for tomorrow."

"She saw the video of us on the porch. She knows there's something but we never went into great details. There was nothing really to tell at that point."

"Ok."

"She and Henry saw it together. You should know that if you don't know already. They never asked me anything, Walt because the circumstances didn't warrant it and I didn't want to push it either."

He shakes his head acknowledging her and says, "I think I'm gonna call it a night."

She puts her napkin down and slides out of the booth and he puts enough money on the table for both of them. "I got it." He says.

"Thank you." She says.

He follows her outside and walks her to her truck but stops short of opening her door as he looks down the vacant sidewalk.

"I'll see you in the morning." He says.

She reaches out with her fingers and grasps the zipper on his jacket, "Thank you for talking to me about Cady." Her eyes are full and searching his.

"You're welcome." He says and his lips curl softly and just as quickly fall. He steps away from her, turns and tells her, "Good night."

She watches the taillights of the Bronco fade into the darkness and the lump appears for the first time in her throat followed by an involuntary tear which she brushes aside and wipes on her jeans. A quick look down the empty street confirms that her vulnerability is all her own and she is free of any public witness. This time, on her drive home she doesn't check her phone and she doesn't have to resist the urge to do so. She doesn't expect him to be waiting and she was right not to. After showering and trying a new shampoo she files her nails while waiting for her mud mask to dry. She thinks about him and wonders how many beers he's into and decides those thoughts are completely useless. Her palm presses against her still flat stomach and the lump reemerges in her throat and she doesn't resist the few tears that stream down her face.

The mud mask washes off easy enough and as she looks in the mirror she bears her frustration because she knows she loves him but as she comes to terms with her pregnancy she's beginning to love their baby more. In a moment of vacillation, she opts to blow dry her hair instead of sleeping with it wet, so she never hears her phone ring.

When she doesn't answer his first thought is relief immediately followed by a quiet rage that fills the empty spaces inside of him. He's not properly equipped to bear a realistic defense for his position. He's afraid she will change her mind about the baby and the shard glass he imagines he's walking on is beginning to cut and the wounds are inextricably deep.

He waits for her outside of the station in the cool dampness of the early morning. He holds a cup of hot coffee in a Kum and Go cup hoping the sugar and milk ratio is correct. She pops out of the truck with her usual wound up energy and steps to the sidewalk to meet him and he reaches out giving her the coffee wearing a soft smile.

"Good morning." He says.

"Thanks." She says.

He shifts his weight and looks for an opening that's not there.

"Friday." She says taking a sip of the coffee, "I think it's better if you talk to Cady alone. I don't want to be a distraction." She blows the steam away and sniffs her running nose, "She may want to say some stuff that would be difficult if I was there, Walt."

"Ok." He says and leans on his other leg. He touches her nylon covered forearm for a moment, "Maybe we can have dinner on Friday night?"

"Can't." She says, "I have to pack and be ready for our flight on Saturday morning."

He pushes forward, "Did you get my message?" He asks.

She pulls her cell phone out of her breast pocket, looks, and turns the phone to face him "No.".

"I called your home number." He says.

Shaking her head, "No, I never heard the phone ring. What did you say?"

His jaw is tight, "Just listen to the message."

They work the entire day and he never broods and she never asks. That night when she makes it home she walks over and looks at the red blinking number one flashing at her.

"I'm trying." She swears his voice cracks before he says, "Just don't give up on me…on us, yet."

She listens to the recording five more times and she showers and changes her clothes all the while thinking about how she feels and what she wants. When she calls him he answers on the second ring.

"If we have a boy I'm not naming him, Walt." She says.

"It's a helluva name. I wouldn't expect you too." He says.

"You still saving it." She asks.

"Only for you." He says.

"Better be." She laughs.

"It always has been for you. It just took me a long time and a lot of mistakes to come to terms with it, Vic."


	25. Chapter 25

He presses the phone to his ear when she doesn't reply and he looks at the receiver and presses it back again, "Vic."

"I'm here." She says. "I've always been here."

He hangs his head, his elbow presses into his knee, "I think I've known that." His fingers scratch his head, "I wasn't respectful of it."

They aren't prepared for their truth. The leaks and drips of it, the flood of it, the depth of it so they pretend it doesn't exist for them and they make up the words of the act they are playing. In the morning they mimic their parts and they spontaneously decide to tell Ruby together only after they realize they need her to help with the paperwork.

He swallows the look of disappointment and she averts her eyes from the judgement. When Ruby walks out of the office she closes the door behind her without being asked.

"That was fun." She says.

He tries to play it off with a smirk but it is one more reminder of where he is and who he is with as he stares out of his window into the populated street below.

"What time are you meeting Cady?"

"Um." He hesitates and pulls his pants up, "11:30." He turns and smirks again as if his pretentious smile will make it all go away.

"So, I'll see you in the morning?"

"Yeah, 6:30 on the dot." His lips curl and she takes the non-verbal clue.

"Coverage is confirmed for the weekend. I'm going to take off early so I can get ready."

"Ok."

"Do you need me to pick up anything for you?"

He pauses for a moment like he's really thinking about it, "I'm good. Thanks."

She spins on her heels and walks out without another word. She can't explain the lack of emotion or the depth of clarity suddenly upon her as she walks down the sidewalk, straight into city hall, up the stairs to human resources, and asks to speak to a retirement counselor.

"I need to know the rules. If I leave employment with the county before I retire she asks."

After an hour with Bessie she is well versed in the terms of vestment and retirement options. Before she leaves she asks about FMLA and disability options. Bessie walks her over to Ruth who fills her head with more terms; short term vs long term disability, baby bonding time, paternal rights and on and on. With her hand written notes and official Absaroka county folder full of official leaflets and brochures she heads home and packs for her trip home.

She googles if wine is safe to drink while pregnant and after reading completely arbitrary articles and testimonials of how normal adults are with mothers who drank before they knew it was dangerous she decides she's already not rational by googling it in the first place. She makes a hot cup of chamomile tea and reserves a room at the closest Marriott near Moretti headquarters for the hell she anticipates encountering.

He waits for her on the sidewalk. He rubs his palms together but it's not cold outside and he catches himself. She looks taller as she walks toward him. Her smile is partially manufactured. He thinks he taught her that when he wasn't looking and he returns a genuine smile because he really is happy to see her.

"Hey Punk." His lips are still curled upward and his eyes are bright.

"Hi Dad." Her smile lights up as she leans in and kisses his cheek.

He tells her just after their food is delivered and while she waits for Dorothy to bring back a side of Ranch dressing for her fries.

"Wow." She says and pulls her hair back behind her ears. "Um." Her eyes grow larger, "Wow, I'm not sure what to say." The manufactured smile reappears and his heart sinks a little.

He pushes his food forward just a tad as his hands dangle next to his plate. He should have been more prepared but he didn't plan for this reaction just the other obvious ones.

"Congratulations." She says still wearing her disguise.

Dorothy puts the side of dressing on the table without a word.

"Cady." He looks toward the front door and back at her, "Um, things are still up in the air."

Her countenance shifts, "What do you mean?"

"Nothings settled."

She leans forward and turns prosecutor as she whispers, "Is she going to have the baby?"

"I think so, yes."

"You think so?"

"She won't name him after me if it's a boy." He says.

"Ok." She pulls her hair back again. "What does that mean, dad?"

He looks at her not formulating an answer and she swallows before speaking.

"Do you love her?" Her eyes wince when he meets them.

"I love her."

"She loves you back?"

He nods his head still looking at her feeling completely uncomfortable having this conversation with his daughter.

"What's the problem then?" She asks folding her fingers together.

"Everything."

"They never would have found you, you know, without her." She smiles and it's soft and it's genuine. "I guess I've known since then." She says. "She was relentless."

His face relaxes, "She told me you saw the surveillance footage."

Her eyes widen, "Ah yeah. That was awkward."

His eyebrows rise and he takes a deep breath, "We're going to Philadelphia tomorrow to tell her family."

"Dad." She says and exhales for them both.

"I keep wanting to apologize but I'm not sorry, Cady."

"Does she know that?"

He looks down at his food and wonders when his daughter got so smart. "Your fries are getting cold."

Before he goes home he calls her.

"I know we don't have time for dinner."

She cuts him off, "How did it go?"

"We have an entire plane ride to talk about it tomorrow." He says.

"That bad." She pulls her hair back.

He turns and faces his bookcase, "I want to kiss you goodnight."

Her voice lightens, "I would like that."

He fills the doorway and his arms fold around her as their lips meet. She kisses him like she means it and he kisses her because he does. On the plane ride he tells her about his conversation with Cady and he tells her he's not sorry and he leans over and kisses her and she tells him she's not sorry either. As the plane starts to descend she tells him about the hotel room and his ears pin back. He hasn't felt this nauseous since boot camp.


	26. Chapter 26

They weave their way through the crowd of insignificant strangers travelling to names on a map. He holds her hand through the airport. She lets him. It's nice he thinks. They've never done this before and it feels good. Her hand in his. Walking through the world. The stick figures on colored backgrounds direct the way for the pedestrian travelers and just before the large red warning sign for Homeland Security he steps aside pulling her with him and leans against the Navajo white wall. He pinches his lips as he looks at her and thinks of the things a normal man would say but his equally important words tumble from his lips.

"We're going to be ok." He says because he actually believes it.

"My parents aren't going to kill me, Walt." She says.

"I don't mean that." He pinches the other side of his mouth, "I mean me and you.

"You don't know that."

"I do."

"Nothing is settled between us."

"Not the details." He leans a little harder against the wall and pulls her fingers into his and as his lips flatten. "We have time for the details."

"Is that what you want me to tell my father?" She points between them with her finger, "That we're working on the details and never mind the baby."

He looks at her thinking and wanting and wondering.

"That shit will never fly in my parents' house."

His eyes blink slowly. "All three of us. We'll be ok."

"Look any notions you have that you need to be here because you're doing the right thing by me will only go so far, Walt."

He nods and leans into her and his breath falls on her neck. "This is the right thing." He kisses her there. Despite everything she gets warm all over.

"Thank you for coming with me." She says into his ear.

His hand tucks her hair aside and his lips find hers and he kisses her standing there against the wall as the strangers migrate past them. She kisses him back, her hands on his ass, because she can't help herself and he lets her.

"I think we might need that hotel room after all." She says in his ear and she can feel his cheek flush hot next to hers.

"Your dad is armed, Vic." He chuckles against her. "I don't need to throw it in his face that I'm sleeping with his daughter."

"Oh like being pregnant isn't obvious enough." She says as they break away.

"I don't want to be disrespectful."

"You mean it is bad enough already."

He pinches her t-shirt at her belt buckle, "It isn't bad, Vic." He smiles, "Us having a baby."

She looks up and studies his face, "I do wish it was different."

He waits and keeps his grip on her, "The timing is what I wish were different."

"Maybe if we planned it."

She nods, "More like if we were more settled."

"Me too." He admits, "But we're here now." He pauses while he looks at her, "We'll be ok."

She reaches up and kisses the corner of his mouth while her fingertip trace his cheek. She takes his hand and they walk out of the airport hand-in-hand to meet the rest of the Moretti's.

When the cab pulls in front of the tri-level walkup she grows pale, "I think I'm gonna throw-up." She says and holds her stomach.

"Vic, are you alright?" He asks.

"Fuck no." She says and leans forward her head nearly between her legs.

"Have you been getting sick?"

She shakes her head.

"Let's get some air."

The driver meets them on the sidewalk with their luggage and she practices her tactical breathing while Walt settles with the driver. His face is suddenly wrinkled and his age apparent as he worries about her.

"I'm just a little nervous I guess." She breathes in, "It's stupid."

"It could be worse." He says and she cuts her eyes at him, "I don't know how at the moment but it could be." He smirks and his eyes light up and she can't help but smile back because he's beautiful though she tries to deny herself the right to think of him that way. He threads his fingers through hers and rolls the luggage behind him suddenly thinking it was a bad idea to put their things together in one bag as the wheels click between the cracks in the cement.

The perfectly mowed lawn and manicured shrubbery offer a brief introduction to the flawless home of the Moretti's. He sneaks a peek of her out the corner of his eye and he imagines her as an unruly little girl defying everyone and everything and how he's put her in this position to explain to her parents how she's divorced living in Wyoming and pregnant by her boss. The sourness in the back of his throat pushes up and he swallows it back down. They never have a chance to knock. Lena Moretti opens the door with her hand on her hip, her chin down, and her eyes look up and down measuring every inch of his frame.

Vic smiles and Lena matches it like twins and they embrace.

"Oh, Victoria, it's so good to have you home." She looks past her, "You are always good for surprises." Her eyes roll back to Vic. "I didn't expect him to look like this."

"Mom this is Walt, Walt Longmire." She says as the color fills his face.

She smacks her lips and her eyes land on his belt buckle and then move back up to his pursed lips. She leans in and gently places her hands around his shoulders and embraces him for a light airy hug.

"Welcome to Philadelphia, Walt."

"Mrs. Moretti." He says with his campaign smile.

"Lena." She says and offers back a smile just as glaring.

"Your dad will be home in a few minutes." She says and turns toward the door. His hand falls to the hollow of Vic's back and he follows her through the threshold. "I made up your old room, Victoria and Walt," she says with a smile in her voice, "the basement is ready for you."

"Thank you, Lena."

"That's not going to be a problem. I hope." She says looking at him judging and thinking about this situation and why her daughter really is here.

"No, ma'am."

"Cut the cowboy shit." She says and his lips curl and he looks at Vic who shrugs her shoulders.

"It's not an act mom, seriously." Vic says and he's not sure if she's clarifying or coming to his defense.

"How can you put up with that shit?" She asks like he's not there.

"It's nice. He's nice." She says and his face stays flat while he reassesses their position and situation.

"Hmm" Rolls from her lips, "I don't know whether to make coffee or martinis." She says as Vic the Senior unlocks the front door and meets them inside. She takes one look at her husband and says, "Fuck it, I'll make both."


	27. Chapter 27

He wasn't surprised. He wasn't shocked. He suspected he would be in for a weekend of F-bombs. He extends his hand toward Vic the Senior as Vic makes the introductions.

"Nice to finally meet you, sir." He says.

"Same here." He says squeezing then letting go and hugging Vic with veracity.

He keeps his thick arms wrapped around her, his jacket rising up his back exposing his handcuffs and holster, "How's my baby girl?" He asks.

She doesn't answer him and instead buries her head in his shoulder. He imagines she spent many hugs like this as a little girl and seeing her in her father's arms he falls a little more in love with her. He holds her with his hands on her shoulders studying her face. He looks over at Walt and toward the kitchen where Lena is rattling in the kitchen.

"It doesn't take a Grade-A detective to figure out there's a shit storm brewing here so you just want to tell us or do you want to drag it the fuck out?" He asks looking between them.

Walt lengthens his frame, "I was hoping we could talk man-to-man." He looks over at Vic, meeting her eyes, and in his way telling her this is how it will be; him loving her and protecting her.

Lena stands in an empty space behind them sipping her martini, "There's a whole pitcher made. I think we're going to all need a drink."

Vic Senior surveys the room as he stretches his jaw covering it with his open palm. It's a half-tired half-thinking yawn. He motions toward the martini tray and they both refuse. Vic Senior raises his eyebrow and looks back to Lena confirming his concern about their daughter.

"This is my first, you know." He says.

"First what, dad?"

"First man-to-man." He says.

"Oh."

She hangs her head down for just a moment running through the short list of serious boyfriends and one husband all of whom avoided her father at every cost. His reputation and stature silenced her suitors but Walt is different in so many ways and it is part of her problem. She looks at Walt terrified of what he is thinking but his face is devoid of emotion. There is sternness about him she has rarely seen on display.

"First's aren't necessarily bad." Walt says looking at Vic and she can feel the heat rush forward and recede just as quickly.

"As much as I would like to think I run this house I know better." Senior says and adds, "Let's all just have a seat." Lena drains her martini and sighs into her uniquely triangular fine crystal glass just before refilling it.

Senior takes his place at the head of the table and everyone follows suit. Vic slides next to Walt and he looks at her, his lips are flat, his eyes sullen and intense.

"What's wrong, Vic?" Senior asks her. His fingers folded together on the table as the interrogation begins.

She pulls her hair back and he's reminded of her confessing to smoking under the high school bleachers, "I wouldn't say anything is wrong but it's definitely complicated."

Walt meets his eyes, "The past couple of years have been complicated." He says and under the table his fingers wrap around her thigh and seek her hand and when he finds it he threads his fingers through hers. "We are going to have a baby." The words come from his lips with ease and confidence.

Lena's head falls into her hand and just as quickly she recovers and runs around the table and hugs her daughter.

"Congratulations." She says into her ear and she can't help but choke up a little even through the shock and the mystery of this situation.

Senior clears his throat, "Are you the reason my daughter is divorced?" He says and their eyes match in intensity.

He shakes his head before he speaks, "No."

"Not in the way you're thinking." Vic says and they both turn to face her.

"My marriage had been disintegrating for a long time and after the kidnapping Sean demanded I quit. In the end, he knew my job made me happier than our marriage and he equated a lot of that with Walt."

He squeezes their fingers tighter under the table, "I never knew that."

"Partners are closer than spouses." Senior says as Lena tops off her glass and slides her fingers across her husband's shoulders as she walks by, "You better keep Pete as your partner."

She takes a small sip and looks over her glass and he winks at her, "I will, hon don't worry." He's learned his lesson with Lena Moretti and has neither desire nor intention of ever repeating his mistakes where his wife is concerned.

"Are you getting married?" He asks, "Is that why you came here to ask for my permission?"

She gently pulls his hand but he doesn't look over and hits full stride as he says, "We're not getting married but I would like to ask your permission."

His lips curl just a bit with the seriousness of the conversation, "It is my intention to marry your daughter. I love her." He looks at Lena and back at Senior, "but I haven't earned her love you see. I've made some mistakes that aren't so easy to walk back from. I know she loves me but I want us to be in love with each other and we both know we aren't there, yet."

His voice cracks but he doesn't stop. "Us getting pregnant was a surprise. It wasn't a mistake." His index finger lands on the table as he makes the declaration.

He turns and looks at Vic still holding her hand and his eyes are intense, "I'll always take care of you and our baby, Vic. I pray one day you will be my wife and that I deserve to be your husband."

She frees her hand and touches his face, her fingers unaccustomed to the smoothness of his skin. She leans over and gently and softly kisses his lips because she loves him and more importantly because he gets it, finally.


	28. Chapter 28

Half way through dinner Lena smiles through the slight alcohol haze and relishes her baby is having a baby but closer to dessert she asks Walt what the hell he was thinking sleeping with his deputy.

His head leans back and just as swiftly falls forward, "I did think about it." He answers her, "For a very long time," his voice trails off.

She points her fork and it moves in an imaginary circle, "Somehow you worked it out that it was ok?"

"Mom, please." Vic asks, "Maybe we can talk about this later."

"Actually, your mother has a point." Senior interjects and asks, "Victoria, are you going to move back home? You're not getting married and Walt, while I do appreciate you offering to take care of her she has a home here in Philadelphia and a family that misses her very much."

His face reverts back to strangulated sternness and he looks at her feeling the effects of the one-two punch. Absorbing it, he presses his wrist to his lips and waits for her answer.

"I don't know." She says and she meets his eyes, "I've thought about a lot of things but…" Her voice peters out regretting all of the things they haven't talked about.

"But we still have a lot to figure out." He says and looks at Senior. "There's still time."

"I'm not sure I was asking you." He says and pushes his plate forward.

Walt's lips thin out and his jaw clenches just before he speaks, "I have a daughter. She's done well for herself. She's a lawyer and works on the Cheyenne reservation in my county defending traditionally marginalized clients. I'm really proud of her. I admit that her mother was responsible for raising her. I was too busy Sheriffin' but Cady's mine and always will be just like this baby is mine and will always be ours."

He pauses, his fingers lightly land on his chest, and he looks at Vic, "There are so many things…" He stops short and looks down at her lap and his eyes are full when they return to hers.

He looks at her father, "Do you think we could speak privately?" He asks and clears his throat.

Senior stands and places his napkin in his plate and Walt rises waiting to follow. Vic's hand traces down his forearm and drops into her lap. The torture of unclaimed feelings bubble to the surface. She watches the two most important men in her life walk out.

Senior stands at the lip of the first step with his hand in his pocket and offers Walt a cigar. After two puffs of his own, he clips and lights Walt's stogie and the two men sit and smoke. He waits for the lanky stranger to surrender before him but when it doesn't come he sighs and waits knowing that they are two lost souls scratching and clawing and fighting for each other even if they don't know it or understand it, yet.

"It really is complicated." Walt says.

"I can see that." He responds and pushes the smoke forward with a strong blow.

"If she wants to move home I won't stop her."

"But."

"But, I would like to think I'm her home now."

"You say you love each other."

"Yup"

"What's so complicated then?

He looks over at the older man, "We both did some things. I hurt her badly."

He takes another puff from his cigar and blows it into the clear air.

"You can't come back from that?"

He still studies him, "I don't know."

Senior studies him back, the ash grows on his cigar, "Trust is something that once you lose it you work your whole life trying to get it back."

Walt nods his head and tucks his lower lip as he listens, "She called me nearly every day you were in the hospital."

Walt's eyebrows rise at Senior's revelation and Senior continues, "I guess we've just been waiting for this but we weren't waiting for this exactly."

He grinds out his cigar in the ashtray tucked behind the planted pot, "There's one more thing you should know."

Their eyes are firmly planted on each other. "If you hurt my daughter I will kill you."

"I'll hurt her and she'll hurt me, Victor that is just life but I swear I'll never hurt her on purpose." He says.

"Does she know that?"

"I'm working on it."

They take a walk and he holds her hand. They talk about her phone calls home and he tells her about his talks with Nick. His arm migrates around her shoulders and hers around his waist. He teases her for being short and she teases him about not having an ass. As they round the corner to her parent's home she tells him about her visit to human resources.

He stops short, "Are you leaving me?"

"We aren't a, we, Walt."

He's standing so close she can feel him through their clothes and his breath is warm as it falls on her, "I want us to be a we." He dips his head and kisses the edge of face next to her ear and his lips stay there, "I've wanted that for such a long time, Vic."

She grabs the side of his shirt and fills her hand with the denim, "You haven't acted like it."

"I don't want to fuck this up any more." He says.

He wraps his arms around her and gently holds her, "It's about more than us." She says into his ear.

He looks at her, "That's not the only reason, Vic."

He strokes her hair and it flows through his fingers, "We both could have died."

She looks up at him realizing their truth, "We can make it right."

"Yup."


	29. Chapter 29

They are civilized before they settle for bed and make plans for the next day with family. He asks to walk her to her room and has a healthy dose of fun when he sees her childhood bedroom for the first time. Lena offers to completely embarrass her daughter the next day with three decades of photo albums. An offer he readily accepts with a wide smile and what would be called chuckles in polite society.

"This is a very nice room, Vic." He says.

"It didn't look like this when I was a teenager, Walt. My mom redecorated it."

He stares at her with a goofy grin, "What is so damn amusing?" She asks.

"Just picturing you at seventeen. I bet you were cute and had to beat the boys off with a hammer."

She flushes and smiles, "I did ok."

He presses his body forward smiling wide like he's holding a deep secret.

"What?" She asks kissing the corner of his freshly stubbled jaw.

"You are beautiful, Vic." He says and kisses the corner of her mouth while his hands wrap around the curve of her hips.

"You would have gone to jail." She says.

"What?" He says not really as a question as he kisses her neck and she groans.

"You know, what." She kisses just under his ear. "You would have been too old for me when I was seventeen."

"Sometimes I think I'm too old for you now." He says.

She moves her hips, "It doesn't feel too old."

As he kisses her he feels weightless and he can't stop it though he tries. His descent into her love is overwhelming and intoxicating. It's what he's been fighting all along and standing in her bedroom kissing her he is in full realization that this is what he's been fighting because there's no coming back from this or from her. She feels his love pour from him and she forgets where she is and why they are there as she soaks it in and makes it her own. She's held her breath waiting for this moment since she was a defiant seventeen year old terrified of how honest and simplistic her love for him is and that it is no match to the formidable uncertainty she holds deep inside her heart. She opens her eyes to the intensity staring back at her and a wisp of air escapes his lips. She does what she always does and deflects her insecurity and pain with her attitude as she presses against the hard hot flesh pulsating between them.

"Sorry, I can't take of that for you." She says tempting him.

"I'm sorry I can't take care of you." He says and nibbles her neck resulting in a squelch.

"You make me feel like a 21 year old kid." He says.

"If you give me a hickey I'm going to kill you." She laughs and he wraps her tighter in his arms and they play back and forth. He tries to leave a hickey and she feigns resistance and they laugh in each other's arms.

He gracefully falls to his knees and he rubs her stomach with his huge hands and he kisses her stomach, "I love our baby." He says between kisses and he looks up at her, his hair falls back and his face is full, "We have a lot to decide but I want you to have the security of knowing that no matter what you want to do I will love you."

She pulls her fingers through his hair, "Thank you." She says, "I love you but more because you feel that way."

"It will always be this way, Vic." He closes his eyes as she tugs back on his hair, "I want us together, but I want what's best for you more."

She leans over and kisses his forehead and he kisses her stomach once more before standing up.

"I'm going to say goodnight now otherwise I won't leave." He says.

"Good night."

"Good night"

They kiss lightly on the lips.

"I'll see you in the morning." He says.

"Get some sleep because my brothers are coming over tomorrow."

"I'm not going to have to fight them am I?"

"I don't know, maybe." She smirks.

"Come on, Vic."

"We're a close-knit Italian family and you knocked up their little sister. I would expect some degree of ass kicking to occur."

He smacks his teeth and smiles, "You're worth it."

He lays awake with his hands resting on this chest and he thinks about where he is and who he is and his lips curl and his face relaxes. He'll slay the dragon for her or the five dragons for her every day of the week for the rest of his life if that's what it takes. As he closes his eyes he sees her face before him and he silently promises her all of him.

Her dreams are light and fluffy and she's half tempted to go down to the basement and revisit the distinct pleasure of him but the reality of her parent's house set in and she refrains. She hopes her brothers will not be disappointed in her. They've never approved of her choices regrading the men in her life and now unmarried and pregnant living so far from home she worries about their reaction. Her euphoria dissipates and shifts to terror the next morning when she notices the light tiny spots of blood.


	30. Chapter 30

Her panic turns to fear as her thumbs type on her smartphone searching for information. What she finds runs the spectrum and after a few minutes she eases into deputy mode calming her nerves and returning to rational thinking. She is the last one to the breakfast table and Walt stands to pull out her chair. He kisses her gently on her cheek and tells her good morning. She tries her best to not think about it or jump to dangerous conclusions. He looks happy sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee and listening to Lena talk about being the wife of a detective smirking at the occasional eye rolls Senior offers during the dialogue. He casually rests his hand on her knee as if it is something he's done his entire life and when he looks her way she swears he winks at her and his eyes are glistening blue.

She offers to clean the table and he offers to help her and when they are alone in the kitchen he takes her by the elbow and turns her around facing him. He kisses her first then he asks, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Vic, come on be square with me."

"I'm just nervous."

"Everything is going great." He smiles and leans against the counter.

She feigns a quick smile, "Yeah, I guess I'm worried about nothing."

He wraps his finger in her belt loop, "I'll get along fine with your brothers."

"I'm sure you will." She says.

"Ok, really, what's wrong?"

She stares at the back kitchen wall, "We're past this Vic."

She takes a deep breath and turns back toward him, "I had some spotting this morning." She says and exhales. She searches his eyes waiting for the flash of disappointment to appear but when it doesn't she's thrown off balance.

"It's probably nothing. I mean its early." He says.

"I'm scared, Walt."

"Is there a hospital nearby?"

"Over on Delancey."

"Let's go." He says.

"What will I tell my parents?"

"Tell them you're taking me sightseeing before your brothers get here because technically it's ture."

She presses her head against his chest as his arms wrap around her and there in the kitchen where no one can see him his face falls flat as the tears fill his eyes. He kisses the top of her head and wipes his eyes and tells her he loves her.

"It will be alright." He whispers in her ear. "I know it will."

She fills out the paperwork and he absorbs a few stares at his boots and belt buckle but he takes them in stride while he processes the alternatives and what it could mean to her, to him, and to them. She asks him to come with her when they call her name and he folds his long frame into the small chair in the exam room. After the exam, they explain they are leaving for Wyoming and the doctor talks about her egg embedding and how it could be normal because she doesn't have cramps and for her to follow up with her primary physician in Durant.

They sit at the tiny table and split a cheesesteak.

"Maybe the cosmos knows we aren't ready." She says.

He pushes his food into his cheek, "Cosmos has nothing to do with it."

"I shouldn't be pregnant to begin with."

"Exactly."

"Make sense." She says.

"You shouldn't but you are."

"Fate."

"Yup."

That's all they say about it. It's not because they are insecure it's because they both believe in each other.

Her brothers are at the house when they get back and after their gregarious hello filled with hugs and kisses they fall into polite routine questioning of the mysteries of Wyoming. She knows her parents talked to them and laid down the law only the way Lena can and she's more appreciative of her mother than she's ever been.

After the family feast when it's just the two of them sitting on the back porch and he asks her if she's told her mother.

"No, I don't want to worry her."

"I think it may be good to talk to her, Vic."

"Why?"

"She's your mom. She'll want to know because she loves you."

"She'll just worry."

His lips twist, "It's our job. To worry. It's what parents do. Besides she's worried already."

"Are you fucking lecturing me?" She asks.

He shakes his head, "No. I'm just loving you."

She takes his hand and he puts them in his lap and they sit on the porch enjoying the essence of them without any distractions except for the panic stricken thoughts in their heads.

When they kiss each other good night she asks, "This kind of worry, will it ever go away?"

He shakes his head, "When we're six feet under."

"Will you go with me?" She asks, "When we get back home."

She can feel the rumble in his chest as she leans against it, "Yup."

"I want to stay with you." He says.

"We can't"

"When we get home."

"That would be nice." She says and his arms tighten around her.

"I like the sound of that." He says.

"What?"

"Home."


	31. Chapter 31

**There's some strong T content.**

* * *

On the sidewalk in front of the departure sign Vic Senior and Walt shake hands as Senior reminds him of his promise but asks him to take care of his only daughter. Lena gives him a cool hug and slides her hand across his back before turning to her daughter. Her parents hug her and tell her she can come home anytime and they tell her they love her. They are quiet on the plane ride home and both take turns napping. The dry dust and heat greet them as wayward children returning to the womb.

"Fuck, it's hot." She says.

"Yup" He says.

Halfway home she reaches over and slides her hand down his deceptively large arms. He glances over and winks at her and offers the corner smile of his robust mouth.

"I'm going to drop you off at home."

"Would you like to stay for dinner?" She asks.

"I was thinking I could go home and get some clothes and come back." He is still shy about her and careful not to presume. Her face softens remembering his declaration from the night before.

"Ok."

She looks out of her window at the brown vast landscape while he stretches his arm on the seat behind her. She tucks into him eliminating the space between them. She makes circles on his worn jeans. He walks with her and checks the inside of her house but she is too tired to protest. He leans in and kisses her lips and promises to be right back.

"I'll have your dinner ready." She says

He grins, "If you're barefoot when I get back…"

She slaps him in his chest and laughs, "You wish. Get the fuck out of here."

She tip-toes up and kisses him and smacks his butt on his way out of the door. He looks over his shoulder with a wide grin. He surveys the street. He's hypervigilant. He's unapologetic. An hour and ten minutes later he knocks on her door and steps to the side checking behind him. When she opens the door the word involuntarily escapes his lips, "Wow." He says.

He recovers quickly, "You look beautiful."

She pulls the sides of her summer dress, "You like."

"Yeah." He says and with a devious grin says, "Especially the bare feet."

She wraps her arms around him, his wet hair pressing against her ear, and her nostrils flair with his fresh sage woodsy scent.

Still holding him she asks, "Are you hungry?"

He walks her into the house, their arms still clenched around each other, "Hmm" he growls and starts nibbling on her neck. "I'm starving." His voice is deep and gravely.

"Dinner is ready." She leans back and their intensity is palpable. They pause taking in each other. Each thinking and shredding through their thoughts and emotions.

"We should wait until we see the doc tomorrow."

"You won't hurt me, Walt."

"We don't know."

Her lips curl, "Well that's not the only thing we can do." She enjoys the flood of blood engorging his face and the sly grin that appears. With the wall down she forges ahead.

"You're embarrassed." She whispers.

He pulls her closer, holds her tighter, and calls her bluff as his hands slide down her hips while he sinks to his knees. His fingertips gently tease at the hem of her dress and they move up her thighs followed by his tongue creating a trail of lust and desire. She is rendered speechless by both surprise and delight. Her fingers pull his damp hair and he groans into her inner thigh and she groans back. She grips his shoulders and he continues upward. Her nails digging into his flesh and the low rumble moans give him permission to continue. She shouts a resounding, "Fuck", from her mouth when she realizes he knows what to do with his and it is enough to send her where he wanted her to go.

Eventually they finish dinner. She stretches across his legs and into his arms while they don't really watch television. Feeling unusually safe she asks him about the baby.

"I'll still be here." He says.

"We've both lost so much"

He rests his chin in her hair and his fingers trail her arm.

"I wanted to die." He trails his words, "I knew you would find me but I figured it would be my corpse."

"What?"

She says moving up in his arms and facing him. She pulls her hair aside. He concentrates on his fingers.

"They were relentless." He says and his head sinks a little further down, "I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of begging for my life."

His eyes slowly make their way to hers and they are intensely black, "That probably would have made it worse." He pauses, licks his lips, like he's remembering the thirst of desperation.

"I thought about Martha and Cady and all the wonderful years we had together. The regrets, the pain, and the love we shared as a family. The love I have with Cady and how proud I am of her and all she's accomplished."

She folds her legs into his and faces him directly, "Those last hours."

He takes a deep swallow, "I only thought of you. The missed opportunities. The humiliation of how I treated you."

He flashes a momentary grin, "I've always been a bit scared of you." His long eyelashes cover his eyes for a second longer than usual and they open to reveal the burning desire in his eyes.

"I always kept you at arm's length and sometimes a lot farther because I would never be able to come back from you if we ever got there, Vic." He wipes under his dry eye recalling his horror, "Hanging from that pipe, I couldn't cope with the pain, and dying would make it all end."

She touches his face and his cheek fills her palm and he looks down into his lap, "I'm ashamed of myself for wanting to give up."

"Walt, look at me." She says and his eyes open to hers, "You survived hell. Wanting to die is nothing to be ashamed of because you didn't, Walt. You survived those crazy fucks."

"I often think it's because I wanted to come back to you. To make it right with us. To love you the way you were meant to be loved."

She cants her head and he answers, "You need to be loved hard, Vic."

"You worry you can't?"

"I have to earn your love."

"I don't know if earn is the right word, Walt. I need you to be respectful of my love and of me."

"You still don't trust me do you?"

"With my heart…it's difficult."

"I know it is, Vic. I know there's no going back."

Sitting between his legs she circles his hips and wraps her arms around his shoulders, "We're moving forward, and that's a good thing."

She kisses his lips, "Thank you for trusting me, Walt. For telling me those things."

His arms snake around her hips pulling her closer, "You're welcome." He kisses her cheek and says into her ear, "If you ever want to talk to me I'll always be here."

She splays her palm across her stomach, "I want our baby to be ok."

His hand covers hers, "So do I."


	32. Chapter 32

They drive to Gillette after her doctor referred her to an obstetrician and to appease her nerves. On the way they talk about the reality of their situation and their profession.

"You have to work the desk, Vic."

"I know."

He doesn't say the next most obvious thing which is how they will deal with the public disclosure that she, a recently divorced deputy, is pregnant by the Sheriff. It just looks bad he thinks and despite his ego he is realist enough to understand that he only won the last election by 17 votes. When he thinks about it, he excuses the shallow victory by making note that he reluctantly ran and was not emotionally invested in any campaign appearances. It's all bullshit though and he knows it.

"This drive will be a bitch in about six months." She says.

"I'll take you." He says.

She smiles at him and subconsciously looks in the backseat searching for the alien pod that delivered this Walt.

"What?" He says with his half-smile flirty grin. His eyes glisten in the mid-morning sun.

She shakes her head, "I'm not used to seeing you like this."

"Like what?" He keeps his flirty face.

"I don't know ….you're being nice…I guess."

He takes his eyes off the road for just a moment and reaches over and squeezes his hand over hers, "I'm happy, Vic."

She smiles and her heart quickens because she believes, rightly so, that she's the reason for the happiness. The tires turn a full rotation and he keeps looking out of the front window, "And I'm in love with you."

She wasn't expecting those words, not now, not in this place and she's not ready to receive them.

"What the fuck, Walt." She says. "You can't say that driving down the highway in the middle of bum fuck Egypt. You save that shit."

Her heart is thumping now. Her breath is short. He put her in a corner and she thinks he knows that but she can't say the words back.

"Ok, Vic." He takes his hand back and switches it to the steering wheel. He stares straight ahead, his eyes squint against the sun, and she chides him for retreating.

"Don't be a prom queen, Walt."

He doesn't respond but his left fingers flex along with the thoughts colliding in his mind.

"All I'm saying is that you could have gotten a lot of mileage out of that."

He looks over without any kindness in his features.

"You still have to work for this you know."

He turns his head at a 45 degree angle and quickly straightens it back and smacks his lips reaching whatever conclusion he's landed on. The remaining drive to Gillette is quiet as they both replay the conversation to themselves and retreat away from each other.

They repeat the administrative paperwork and sit in the neutral color exam room essentially taking sides in their respective corner. There's a quick knock at the door and it opens and Dr. Hua steps in and smiles at them. Her long black course hair is loosely pulled and pinned back and her bangs rummage in several directions on her forehead. She extends her hand and introduces herself to each of them.

"So, your doctor emailed me your records and this is your first pregnancy, right?" She piles three words into one word worth of space with her rapid fire speech.

"Yes."

She casually points at Walt, "Ok, I don't want to get too personal here but its highly unusual for a sheriff to be in the exam room with a deputy. Are you two married?"

Walt shakes his head and Vic answers her, "No."

She looks between them waiting for more and when it doesn't come she looks at Vic, "Do you want him here?"

"Yeah, of course. He's the father. Walt Longmire."

"Hmmm." Dr. Hua says and shakes her head. Her eyes roll up just a little while her mouth twists. She turns to Vic, "I'm new to small town politics but you two are courageous." She says.

"What do you mean?" Walt says decidedly pissed and on offense.

"Let me apologize Sheriff. I'm from San Fransisco and it is monumentally different from Gillette. It's not better it's just different. My husband is a specialist in animal husbandry hence our new life in Gillette." She pushes her bangs aside as she takes Vic's blood pressure and temperature.

"I mean you would get at least one eye roll in The City so I know you are in for hell here. I'm not judging." She says.

Vic smiles because she likes her.

"How long have you lived here?" Vic asks while Dr. Hua types notes on her desktop.

"We've been here for 9 months." She smiles, "It was here or Fresno and there's no way I'm living there."

"How do you like it?"

"Besides the fact there's no decent Chinese food because frozen egg rolls don't not count its ok." She turns on her swivel leather stool and says, "Hey it's my fault for marrying a cowboy. What did I expect to happen? They are all the same whether they are from California or Wyoming"

"Ms. Moretti, you are fine." She says. "The doctor in Philly nailed it. It's normal embedding of your egg after being fertilized by Mr. Longmire's sperm. You don't have the symptoms consistent with miscarriage which would include cramping and a heavier discharge of blood. If any of those things happen it warrants an emergency room visit."

She looks between both of them and points her finger, "Got it."

"Yup." He says and asks, "Does she have any restrictions besides desk duty?"

"Nope." Dr. Hua shakes her head and turns to Vic, "You can exercise and of course you already know not to drink or smoke and I'm assuming by your profession you don't do recreational drugs so none of that if you do and no one knows."

Vic decides she really likes her.

"Got it."

"You can make your upcoming routine appointments with the nurse and you two will be well on your way for a healthy baby. Email me anytime if you have a question." She rolls her eyes again and blows her bangs out of her eyes this time, "Look Ms. Moretti, there's no question too weird or too crazy to ask me. I would rather you email me than Google it and get some bat shit crazy answer that will hurt you or Baby Longmire."

"Ok, Big City."

Dr. Hua smiles appreciative of the shout out to her populous roots.

"Is sex ok?" Vic asks.

"It's great." Dr. Hua says and the two women laugh, "Yes, you two can have all the wonderful non-crazy sex you want. You won't hurt the baby."

She looks at Walt, not intimidated by his seriousness, "I encourage you to really love each other right now. Pregnancy is stressful and whatever we can do to not stress the baby is ultimately the correct course of action."

On the drive back Vic turns to him, "I like Dr. Hua. She's a badass."

"She's unprofessional."

"Why would you say that?" Vic says on the defensive.

"What doctor talks like that?"

"Oh, you mean being rude for no reason?"

"That among other things."

"Oh I thought you would like that."

"Why would I like that?"

"Donna Monahan sound familiar? Only difference is Dr. Hua knows what the fuck she's doing."

When he clenches his jaw and doesn't say anything she goes for the kill, "Do I have to worry about you fucking her too?"


	33. Chapter 33

She's in trouble and she knows it. She doesn't want to hurt him but she did and she knows that too. She is unprepared for the small town operatives and their tactics. She's still an outsider and basically friendless except for the daughter of the man she is pregnant by and that is inherently awkward. She is terrified. So she does what she does best which is to go on offense and attack. It is her survival mechanism. Despite what he says or what he does she feels alone. This pain is real. The pain she feels. It is overwhelming. It is tangible. It never goes away. Vic expects and receives the silent treatment. Really, she can't blame him. Not this time.

Its strategic. His retort. He knows what he is doing. He waits for the baron stretch between counties and says, "I don't know what to do."

"The fuck you don't." She says and turns and twists in her seat to face him. Her seatbelt cinches across her chest and she unbuckles it in frustration.

"You know exactly what you are doing. It's always on your terms, Walt."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You figured out how to fuck her when you wanted to. So you know what to do."

"You're not exactly innocent, Vic but I don't bring it up." His voice is raised but he's not yelling.

"By then you picked her and not me."

He's yelling now, his fingers pressed into his chest and in the process crosses the median, "You didn't want me, Vic."

He looks at the road and crosses back, "When I came back you were snuggled up with Eamon. I hadn't even met Donna."

"I wasn't snuggled up with him." She's yelling now.

"The hell you weren't." His hand comes down on the steering wheel.

"You're full of shit. We were just partners, Walt."

"We were just partners!" His fingers fly forcefully into his chest.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

He's driving too fast. His temper has taken over. He doesn't have control. His foot comes off of the pedal and the Bronco slows and he pulls over and he's out of his seat and around to her side where she stands waiting for him.

"Why didn't you just ask me?" She's bending forward her fingers are in her chest.

"Ask you if you were sleeping with him?" He's at the top of his voice. His features are animated.

"No, Walt! Ask me if I was still waiting on you because I was."

His face is hardened.

"You didn't ask me shit. You pissed all over everything instead marking your territory and you fucking fired him and then you moved on. You moved on to her."

His jaw moves in a circle like he's searching for the right ammunition to fire.

"I don't want to hear about her anymore."

"You would still be with her if she wasn't such a douche."

"You don't know that."

"Fuck I don't."

His hands are on his hips. He looks off into the distance calculating the cost.

"Do you even want the baby?"

Her finger moves back and forth, "You're not doing this shit, Walt. You're not going to turn this back on me."

"What is this all about then?" He's fighting not to retreat. He's fighting for them.

She brushes her bangs aside a little too hard, "You painted me in a corner, Walt. You wanted to hear it back."

He walks away from her because just like her he reverts to his basic being. She looks through the windows and watches his familiar profile. She gets back into the Bronco. He doesn't look at her as he puts it in gear.

Before they are on the pavement she says, "I want the baby." She doesn't look at him when she says, "That's what scares me the most."

He waits. The words are difficult for him. "I'm scared, too."

That turns her head. He doesn't say anything else when he reaches over and takes her hand and she lets him.

"I'm sorry." She says and he keeps his hand in hers.

He purses his lips, "I'm sorry for everything, Vic." He pulls her hand into his lap, "I really am."

They work the rest of the day behaving like the professionals they really are and Ruby logs her appointments in Walt's calendar without so much of a word of discontent. Her phone vibrates on the wood desk and she reads the unexpected message from Cady.

"Lunch next week?"

"Sounds good."

"Monday, 12:30? I'll pick U up."

"Ok."

Her stomach clinches but she takes a breath. They've been through so much and they bonded even though she made questionable decisions while living with her and there's not a day that goes by that she wishes she could go back and kick her own ass for being stupid. At the end of her shift he meets her on the sidewalk. She can't help but notice how good he looks and how much she enjoys looking at him.

"I'd like to see you tonight" He says.

She just nods and closes her eyes and tells him, "Not tonight, Walt."

He smiles. She wasn't expecting that, "Ok, Vic."

They work the rest of the week without any drama and by Friday afternoon he stands too close and touches her when he shouldn't and when he asks if he can see her he scratches his face and is almost shy about asking.

When they make love it feels like make-up sex because it is but it is much more.

"Cady asked me to lunch on Monday." She speaks into his elbow.

"Oh." His hand covers her stomach and his warm breath lands on the edge of her shoulder.

"She's going to meet me at the station at 12:30 so she'll probably want to see you."

"Ok." He says and puts his lips where his breath is loitering.

His voice is post coital assuring, "I don't want you to be scared."

She takes a deep breath and his hand rises with her tummy, "I am."

"I'm here."

"It's not just that."

His eyes wince but she can't see it, "Can you tell me."

"It's this small ass backwards town, Walt."

"I don't think you will have any problems."

"Are you being naïve or stupid?" She asks.

"Neither one. There are good people here."

"They won't say shit to my face, Walt but you know as well as I do time fucking stopped circa 1958 around here."

He smiles, "Ok, that's older than I am."

She playfully pushes her elbow into his ribs and they both relax and laugh with each other.

"Aren't you worried about being re-elected?"

He clears his throat softly, "Non Walt Jr will be almost three by then, and I'll get the good lookin' dad vote."

She turns in his arms searching his eyes, "Are you serious?"

He smiles, "Yup."

"You've really thought about this?"

"Yup."

She shakes her head in disbelief and surprise.

"I wasn't kidding earlier." He turns serious, "I'm scared but I have faith in the people of this county." He kisses her and its unexpectedly heated and she responds in kind and he tells her, "I have faith in us more, though."

"We have to get our shit together." She responds.

"We have to trust each other." He says looking into her eyes and holding her stare.

"Do you trust me, Vic?" He asks.

She searches his eyes, "Yes."

"I'm not looking to be with anyone else. I only want to be with you."

"I think I know that."

His eyes are intense and deep blue, "What I said the other day, it's true."

"I know. It's true for me, too."


	34. Chapter 34

He never asks and she never offers but they stay wrapped in each other nearly the entire weekend. He cooks for her and she gives him a facial for fun. She snaps a picture of mud mask Walt while he is unable laugh or protest. On Sunday afternoon he suggests they drive to Gillette to shop for baby furniture. The themes of giraffes, monkeys, and pirates don't quite strike their fancy. In the back of the store she eyes a football pattern.

"That's it. That's the one." She says.

He smiles, "What if it's a girl?"

"She'll love it." She smiles back. She grabs the catalogue. She's happier than he's ever seen her. She promises the clerk they will be back once they've poured through the options and are ready to buy the furniture pieces.

With a mouthful of cheeseburger he asks, "How are we going to do this?"

She takes a bite of her French dip and crinkles her brow.

He stops and starts, "When the baby comes."

She slides a fry in her pool of ketchup, "We'll figure it out."

His finger trails down hers and they finish their lunch without further mention of the life altering event before them. That night she settles in his arms. They watch 60 Minutes and share black walnut ice cream.

"This is nice." She says.

He strokes her arm and kisses the top of her head, "Yup."

Later he draws a bubble bath for her.

"What's this about." She says completely surprised.

"You could relax and I'll scrub your back." He grins with a closed mouth and full lips, "Doc said to reduce stress."

She leans in and kisses him, "Thank you." She strokes his lower back and he helps her pull off her tank and unfasten her bra. He wraps his arms around her bare torso and lays a trail of soft warm kisses down her shoulder and neck. He seems fully aware of his strength as he gently presses her against his frame. When she steps in the tub he pulls off his t-shirt.

"Are you joining me?"

He shakes his head, "I don't want to get my shirt wet."

"Ah" She says.

He settles on his knees, leans against the tub, soaps his hands and begins making circles on her back. The combination of his touch and the warmth emanating from his hands nearly send her in a trance as her body relaxes and her head falls forward.

"Oh my, Walt. This feels so fucking good."

He grunts his pleasant response.

"I'm going to need this when I'm big as a house."

He grins, "We'll do it more often as your belly grows."

She looks over at his serene expression, "Did you do this with Martha?"

His head moves slightly, "No." He rinses her back and lathers his hands again, "She liked her calves massaged towards the end."

His eyes brighten as he recalls decades old memories, "We were so young. We didn't know what we were doing." He concentrates on her shoulders, "But our parents were still alive then and we had a lot of help."

"You miss them don't you?"

"Yup"

"I'm sorry, Walt."

"For what?"

"You've lost so much."

His soapy wet finger moves under her chin, "I have a second chance for another beautiful family. So many men go from cradle to grave with nothing. I can't be sad about that."

Before she can say anything he captures her lips and she moans in his mouth. He showers when she's done bathing and cleans the bathroom. His domestication is such a dichotomy she thinks but she likes it.

"You're staying, then?" She asks.

A micro expression of panic flashes across his face, "That ok?"

"More than ok." She says.

He holds his head above her, "I want to make love with you, Vic."

"What's stopping you?"

They lose themselves in each other as they express their love for each other. Neither one holding back. The intensity is nearly overwhelming but they both stay locked in each other. Her eyes turn black as coal with the flood of emotion she feels. He never knew it could last this long but it does and he is drenched and hot. They take a shower together and change the sheets. The alarm goes off before the sun comes up and as she flutters to consciousness her first thought is how comfortable she is with him by her side. This is how it is supposed to be she thinks. She starts the coffee while he makes the bed.

"Let's get breakfast in town he says." Standing in his navy blue boxers.

"You ready to get out of here?" She teases.

"Hell no." His voice is morning deep. He sips his coffee and slyly grins and points, "After last night I figure your legs may be weak."

She turns and takes his coffee out of his hands and kisses him. They spark. He pulls her in his arms and turns her back to the counter. Her panties are off and his boxers are down without any thought. He wraps her legs around him holding her in place. Her nails sink in his back. It's loud. It's wild. It's something she's never imagined. It's perfect.

When they finish she says in his ear, "I'll never think of this kitchen the same again."

He grunts an approval, "We can christen every room."

"Wow." She says.

He smiles with pleasure and slaps her butt affectionately as he walks away, "I'll meet you in the shower."

"Breakfast in town, right?"

"Yup."

In the shower she asks if he knows why Cady wants to meet her and he tries to keep his face blank but he can't lie to her. He has no interest in lying.

"I do but I can't say."

Her eyes brighten, "Come on."

"I promised."

"Is it good or bad?"

"That's up to you."

"Fuck, Walt."

"We did. A lot."

She smacks his arm and he quickly kisses her lips. She follows him to town and meets him on the sidewalk before walking into the station.

"You better get that stupid grin off your face before you go in the station." She says and his grin gets stupider.

Cady shows up to the station a little early and when he sees her his grin returns. Today is going to be a great day she thinks.


	35. Chapter 35

"You joining us for lunch?" She asks and he stands with his hands on his hips, weight on one leg, and shakes his head.

"Nope. I'll see you two later." His eyes are bright and his eyebrows rise like a little boy with an ice cream surprise.

As soon as they take their seats in the booth Vic says, "Cady, I want to apologize to you." She puts her hands on the table pleading her case, "About, you know, about Eamon and asking you to keep it from your dad."

"Thank you, Vic." She pulls her hair behind her ear and her eyes brighten.

"It was a one off you should know."

"I don't need to know the details." She grins.

"It's important to me that you know I love your father. I don't ever want to be between you and your dad, again."

"I appreciate that." She pushes her hands forward on the table, "I didn't know how to take it at first." She starts, "About the baby."

Vic doesn't respond she decides to sit and listen for once.

"I'm kinda old to be a sister." She smiles, "You know both my parents are only children and I'm an only child." Her eyes widen, "Until now."

She doesn't know whether to apologize or to explain so she does neither.

"I'm warming up to the idea though." She smiles and it actually appears sincere.

They are nearly done with lunch before Cady delivers the punchline.

"I was talking to my dad." Her head bobs back and forth as she filters and edits and rewrites the script in her head, "I would like to throw your baby shower." She smiles and it is entirely sympathetic. She hates it. No one is more honest about her position in this town than she is.

"I don't think a shower is a good idea, Cady." She says and a surprising lump wedges in her throat.

"Why not?" She sounds surprised.

"Because there would be like five people there and I think that would make me really sad." It's suddenly difficult for her to swallow.

"We have 8 months or so to fix that."

"This isn't third grade, Cady. I can't bring sweethearts to class and make everybody like me."

"You can be nicer though."

She rolls her eyes and the lump grows larger.

"That's what I'm talking about." She says it straight like a shot of whiskey neat.

"Are you lecturing me?" Her head rolls.

Cady leans forward, "You're having my father's child. My father." She points her finger toward her chest. "Our family blood is in this ground. We have been here for over one hundred years when this was a territory and not a state. Our name means something. It stands for something, Vic."

She shakes her head and takes a breath. "You are a part of that now and you need to wake up and realize that you represent more than just yourself. You represent more than the department. You represent my father and my family name. The quicker you figure that out the easier this will be on all of us but the most important thing." She stops and points at her, "It will be the right thing to do for your baby, my sister or my brother, who will have to grow up in this microcosm of a town with the last name of Longmire. It is a burden and it is a blessing but it's your choice which it will be."

The lump is too large for her to speak and she can't really breathe. She leans forward and rubs her eyes trying to collect her thoughts. This isn't how she thought it was going to go and why should she be surprised. Her first thought is to leave. Leave, as in, Philadelphia but once she stops kidding herself she knows that Cady is right. She also knows that if Walt was the dog catcher he never would have turned her head. It is the fact that he is the alpha of the alpha males. It's what attracted her in the first place and she has always dismissed his disproportionate call to duty and inappropriate sense of responsibility as a double edged sword that has made him both unattainable and desirable. He was a prize. When she strips away the bullshit she finds his strength and his honor strangely intoxicating because in the end she wants to be taken care of, she wants to be safe, and she wants the strongest, most powerful man in town to do those things for her but sitting here with the offspring of that man she is confronted with her choice. A choice that wasn't a choice. She never intended to be pregnant. She never intended to have his child. She wasn't careful. Her fear isn't that she is pregnant. Her fear is her happiness. Happiness to be pregnant by this flawed man whose daughter sees her insecurities in three dimensional ultra-pixelated clarity. Her terror is that she does not measure up and that she is inadequate. That is something she cannot overcome with good manners and pleasantries.

Cady wipes her mouth with her napkin and puts it in her plate. She picks up and continues her mission. She is a Longmire.

"I'm thinking we can have the party on a Saturday in six months or so but are you thinking of finding out the sex first or are you two going to keep it a surprise?"

"We haven't talked about it." That's all she can offer. Her ears are pinned back and the lump has not quite dissipated.

"Ok. We have lots of time. It won't affect the party just the color combinations."

"Dad told me you fell in love with a baby pattern at the Baby Store in Gillette."

She smiles involuntarily and only nods her head.

"I think we should register you there. If you're ok with it? I would like to buy the bassinet if that's ok with you."

She wipes her dry eyes with her palm, "That would be really nice, Cady. I would love that."

Cady smiles, the same campaign smile of her father, "Good."

She pulls her wallet out of her purse and tells Vic that lunch is her treat and she looks forward to getting together and making plans. Before they part on the sidewalk she turns to Cady and says, "If I'm ever in trouble will you be my fucking lawyer?"

"I've had lots of practice." She says without a smile and walks away.


	36. Chapter 36

She doesn't say anything. She doesn't know what to say. It's part truth and part expectations. She spends the rest of the day buried in paperwork. If he notices she's quiet he doesn't say anything. Toward the end of the shift she reminds him she's having lunch with Nick on Saturday. He doesn't protest or act jealous.

They sit in the hospital cafeteria because he's part of the ER rotation. The food isn't that bad so she doesn't object.

"What do you mean you don't have friends? What am I chopped liver?" Nick says slightly amused.

"I think you and Amy would be number four and number five at the shower."

He laughs, "There's some truth to what she said. I'm sure you realize that, right?"

"Yeah." She says wrapping her fingers around her Styrofoam coffee cup.

"Have you talked to Walt?"

"I've thought about it you know but what would be the purpose? I don't want to violate Cady's trust and I don't want him to explode because he probably would and shit would just get worse."

"Maybe."

"Hey." She says and pulls her hair behind her ear, "Would you and Amy maybe like to come down and have lunch or dinner one Saturday with us and bring the kids?"

"Walt ready for all that?"

"I'll talk to him first, of course, but I really would like to have my own friends independent of him or Durant."

"Let me talk to the boss, sis."

She smiles and he smiles back. She loves him like a surrogate brother.

On the long drive back home she thinks about him and how much she missed him today. She gets over herself and calls him at home.

"Hello." He says like he thinks it's a solicitor and he wants to scare them enough not to ever call again.

"Hi." She says and she smiles thinking about him.

"Hi." He matches her smile and smooths down his hair, "You on your way home?"

"Yup."

There's a moment of silence when she finally tells him, "I missed you today."

He smiles and his voice grows deeper, "I missed you, too."

"I was wondering if I could come over?"

"You hungry?"

"Will be by time I get there."

"Perfect."

He leaves the front door open so he can see through the screen. He doesn't want to miss her walking up the front porch. He likes to watch her walk. He steps out to meet her. Her arms open and they stand and hold on to each other for a very long time for no particular reason.

"I packed us a picnic." He says to the top of her head.

"You're full of surprises."

He doesn't say anything and he breathes in deeply taking in her scent reassured that he did the right thing for the right reasons. He persuades her that the short horse ride will be ok for her and the baby and he takes it slow.

Halfway through their dinner she asks, "Did you do this because of the last time?"

"I want you to be ok here."

"Thank you."

She kisses his lips and he falls back and she falls on top of him. The kisses they share are slow and gentle and welcoming. They lie on their sides and face each other with their heads resting in their hands.

"This feels good." She says and he smiles and touches her face and kisses her.

"I'd like you to stay, Vic but only if you feel comfortable."

"I just want to be with you."

He smiles and says, "That's all I want."

When they get back to the cabin she helps clean their dirty dishes and he asks, "How's Nick?"

"He's good. He told me to tell you hello."

"He's a nice guy."

She stops working and stands against the counter, "Hey Walt, I was wondering if maybe we could invite them out one Saturday for lunch or dinner. What do you think?"

His eyebrows push together for just a moment processing the question he wasn't expecting. "Sure."

Feeling the need for an explanation, "You don't mind? I know you are really private."

"It's what you want, right?"

"Yeah."

"Then it's what I want."

"It won't always be this way. I know that." She says.

"Like what?"

"Like this."

"Everything changes." He turns and faces her, "But I hope we just get better."

She moves to meet him and kisses his lips as he wraps his hands around her hips. Before he kisses her again he asks her, "You haven't mentioned the baby shower. Are you excited?"

He can feel her body tense, "Yeah, yeah, it will be fun. It was nice of Cady to offer."

"Walt, I need to tell you something." She wasn't prepared. She doesn't have a plan. She just knows she doesn't want any more secrets or lies between them.

He kisses the side of her neck and sucks on her ear lobe. "What is it?" He whispers in her ear and though she knows the timing is all wrong she tells him about the secret she asked Cady to keep.

"I don't want any more secrets between us and this one is pretty important because it involves your daughter."

She looks away and then back at him with her lips twisted. "I don't ever want to come between you and Cady again, ever."

He studies her face and drops his hands to his side.

"Walt, I'm sorry."

He bites his lip and nods his head and walks away from her.

"Fuck." She says following him into the living room.

He pushes his hand out, "I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel about this."

The more he thinks the more confused and angry he becomes.

"I don't ever want to hear that guy's name again. I mean we get one step forward and we take ten back."

She puts her head down and waits for the fury to subside.

"Is there anything else I need to know, Vic?"

She shakes her head.

"Why tell me now?"

"With this baby we're all going to be family and I don't want this family to have any more secrets."

He looks up and takes a deep breath.

"I'll go, Walt." She walks past him and he grabs her elbow and she turns around to face him.

"I don't want you to go."

"Why not, Walt. I just keep…."

She doesn't finish her sentence before he cuts her off.

"We just keep running away from each other and you're my family now, Vic. It's time to stop running."

"I need you to promise me something."

He waits and she says, "Don't take it out on Cady. I put her in an impossible position."

"She learned it from me, Vic. How can I fault her?"

She pulls his hair back with her fingers and he pulls her closer, "I want you and my baby with me tonight."

Before they fall asleep pressed against each other he says, "Maybe Nick and his family can come here instead of your place? I'm sure the kids would like the horse and there's plenty of room to play."

"I think he would like that." She pushes into his chest just a little more and he pulls her into him. "I'm glad you are receptive to the idea."

"You need your friends about you, Vic. I realize that."

She closes her eyes in relief, "Next Saturday, then?"

"Next Saturday."

She falls asleep in his arms feeling completely safe and loved by her man.


	37. Chapter 37

He tosses and turns waking her in his stead. She inches over and kisses his neck.

"Hey" She whispers with her sleepy voice.

"Sorry."

"What's wrong?"

"Can't sleep."

"Duh. What's bothering you?" She snuggles closer and shuts her eyes.

"This whole thing with Cady." He says.

He clears his throat, "I'm not exactly upset with her."

He coughs, "It's everything."

"What do you mean?" She blinks her eyes adjusting to the darkness and wraps her arm around his bare stomach.

"Ah, everything is shit with me and Henry. I haven't told him about the baby. We hardly talk anymore since he got the bar back."

She's relishing the candor and the closeness of him so she doesn't push hard.

"You miss him?"

"Yup."

"Fix it."

He sighs and the back of his hand lands on his forehead.

She kisses his shoulder, "Why don't you go see him tomorrow morning. I can handle everything until you get in and Ferg is working if we get a call."

She kisses the soft underbelly of his side and he murmurs. "Maybe I will."

Her kisses trail up his side and to his chest, "No maybe's about it. Just do it."

He wraps his arms around her and pulls her into him and passionately kisses her, "I'd rather do you." He says into her mouth.

She reacts with a throaty laugh. He still shocks her with his playfulness and admissions. He's more fun in bed than she ever imagined in her fantasies. The fire between burns hot as they make love. Each reaffirming their commitment to each other. In the morning, still under the hazy confidence of satisfying his lover he heads to the Red Pony.

His stomach clinches as the double slat doors squeak behind him.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" Henry says from the bar. The ever present white towel slung over his shoulder.

Walt takes in the surroundings and keeps his distance testing the waters.

"Haven't seen you in a while just wondering how you're doing?"

"I am fine." He starts wiping the bar and stares back at him, "How are you?"

He scratches his beard and smiles, "I, um, pretty good." He clears his throat and closes the distances cautious for land mines.

"I was wondering if I could talk to you about something."

"Sure, is it a case you are working?"

He shakes his head, "More of a personal nature."

"We should go in my office." He says replacing the towel over his shoulder.

He falls in behind him and while it's the old place it doesn't quite feel like old times.

"The place looks good, Henry."

"Thank you. It has taken some time to restore it to my standards."

He peels his hat off and holds it in his hands and the sudden urge to apologize takes over him but he's not quite sure what he's apologizing for especially since it's not in his nature.

"Uhm." He smiles and it falls just as quickly. "I, uh, well….I wanted to tell you that, me and Vic. We're going to have a baby."

"It is nice of you to tell me." He says with a stern look of judgment.

He knows him like he knows himself and the lack of shock or surprise is like a hammer over the head.

"Cady told me." He folds his arms across his chest, "It is nice that my god daughter and I still have a relationship."

"We have a relationship, Henry." He smacks his lips, "It's just hasn't been too good lately."

"I am very much to blame."

"We both are, really." He looks away then looks back.

"Are you happy?"

He shakes his head and his eyes suddenly fill and he's surprised by it as his smile spreads, "Yup."

"Is she?"

He nods, "For the most part."

"That is a curious response."

He looks down and says, "She's here without her family. It makes it harder."

"You are not worried about your constituency?"

He turns his head to the side recognizing the swell of anger.

"Election's not for three years, Henry."

"Congratulations are in order."

"Thanks, Henry."

"I have many questions but I do not think the time is appropriate."

He doesn't answer him and deflects as he is accustomed.

"We're having Nick and his family over on Saturday. You remember him, the doc from the hospital, maybe you would like to come?"

His eyebrows give away his surprise.

"He and Vic are really close and she doesn't really have any friends in town."

"No, she does not."

He shifts his weight uncomfortable revealing her insecurities, "It will be fun." He deflects again.

"Bring her family to her."

"We just came back from Philadelphia." He says and he watches Henry's lips scrunch and flatten back out. A clear indication he already knew that as well.

"I will see you on Saturday."

He smiles wide, "That will be great, Henry." He rubs his scratchy face, "Hopefully, Cady can make it too."

They digress into conversation that emulates their past. He calls Cady before he leaves and she agrees to come on Saturday. On his way home he replays his conversation with Henry confident they are on the road to recovery though it will take some time. He knows Henry's well wishes at a new start, a new family, are sincere though they are sandwiched with caution flags. When he gets home she's still there like she promised and his heart fills seeing her on the porch waiting for him.

He pulls her into him and he takes in the fresh lemony scent of her hair. He is suddenly lightheaded and his face flushes at the thoughts he is having about her. He kisses the hollow of her neck and softly says, "I love coming home to you."

He can feel her body tense. So he whispers, "No expectations, Vic."

Her arms wrap around his neck and he kisses her fully and deeply. He tells her about his visit with Henry and he apologizes for not asking her first about the added guests but she smiles letting him know it is more than ok. The sun highlights her hair and he thinks he should ask her to stay but he doesn't want to ruin this moment. She may refuse and that would start the little tremors in his heart making it easier for it to break.

She lets go and stands flat footed in front of him.

"Do you want to go for a ride or something?"

She shakes her head, "Let's just sit." She says. "It's so quiet here." She smiles into the sun, "I've never been here this long before." She looks into his glistening blue eyes, "It's so peaceful, and I'd like to share that with you."

They sit, their legs pressed together, taking each other's hands on occasion enjoying the sun and fresh air. As he looks out to the small rolling pasture he thinks the pain in the journey was worth it for this moment with her.

"We should start thinking of names." She says.

He turns and looks at her and smiles, "We can check Walt off the list."

"I don't know that may still be in consideration." She smiles back and he leans in and kisses her. He hovers close to her face, "Being a Longmire is tough enough but being a junior." He winces.

She presses into his arm, "Maybe middle name consideration."

"Maybe." He says and she kisses the denim covering his shoulder.

"Maybe you'll consider staying here with me?" He asks.

"Maybe." She answers and he kisses the back of her hand as they watch the restorative nothingness of nature offering herself to them.


	38. Chapter 38

Half-way through the week she tells Ferg over a bean and cheese burrito. His boyish charm supersedes his surprise. When Walt asks her to dinner her yes comes easy and when he asks her to stay the night her yes is easier. They lie in bed and plan the weekend.

"I'm not going to cheat." He teases her, "I'll actually cook and not ask Henry to rescue me."

They laugh with each other and she relaxes into this unfamiliar peaceful domesticity. She manages to keep it together all week and actually get excited on Friday as she finishes shopping. When he asks her to stay Friday night he frames it in context of the pending festivities. At first, she thinks he's being manipulative but she decides to give him the benefit of the doubt. He's still cautious about her happiness and when she sees the finished bathroom she actually lets out a resounding, "Fuck, Walt."

He stands behind her and straightens up and stands tall.

"I did a little every night this week." He says, "Bob, helped with the drywall."

She turns around and her smile is all of the affirmation he needs. He steps forward and she doesn't hesitate closing the distance as he takes her in his arms.

"I didn't want you to be embarrassed in front of your friends." He says.

She tightens her arms around him. She looks up and is pleased with what she sees.

"Thank you." She says. Her fingers trace his sideburn, down his cheek, and land on his chest.

"You're welcome."

He is flooded with memories and they surprise him. Memories of warmth. Memories of happiness. Memories of love. Memories of Martha. He will always be connected to her and that's alright with him. Later, when he kisses Vic goodnight, she wraps her arms around him and their bodies involuntarily tangle together because of their overwhelming need to touch each other. There is no compromise for him. Her flesh pressed against his.

In the morning, he stands in the kitchen and watches for her visit. She'll be here he thinks and just before he looks away the owl appears. She bops and coos and just as suddenly she is gone but her blessing clear.

He's deep within himself when Vic walks into the kitchen behind him and snakes her arms around his waist. He covers her hands with his but the other ghosts have taken advantage and begin flooding in; The unwelcomed ghosts. She can feel his back constrict and his hands grip harder.

"Walt." She says into his back. "What's wrong, babe?"

"Nothing." His eyes blink slowly.

She doesn't let go and presses into him.

"I'm sorry." His voice cracks.

"Sorry?"

"It's my fault, Vic." He says.

She pulls his arm forcing him to face her.

"For what?"

"You went through hell because of me." His eyes well and he looks over her head.

"What are you talking about?" She begins to panic.

"Chance. If he didn't hate me he never would have hurt you or Sean for that matter."

"It's not your fault, Walt. He was a crazy fuck."

"That may be true." He looks at her gathering himself, "but he hurt you and I'll always be sorry for that."

She presses her palms to his face, "They almost killed you. I almost lost you, Walt."

"Don't worry about me." He says shifting the pain he keeps stored inside.

"I do worry about you." Her eyes search his, "That's what you do when you love somebody."

Leaning forward he kisses her softly and sweetly. "Marry me." He says.

Her eyes widen and constrict, "Walt." She shakes her head and walks away.

She stands outside in the frigid morning air and he stands behind her. He wraps himself around her, partly in fear she will leave, and partly because he can't help it.

"There was a time that I would have given everything to hear those words." She says, "But I'm not that woman anymore. I don't want to be her anymore."

"I want us to be together."

"We are."

"More of a permanent nature." He says.

"I don't think we are ready for all that, Walt."

"What do you want, Vic, I mean out of all of this?"

"I want our baby." She pulls his arms tighter taking comfort in his warmth, "I want you in our lives. I know that."

"But not every day, not as a family?" He asks because he is decidedly confused.

"We are a family."

He shakes his head, "I don't understand. I don't understand any of it."

"The goal posts have changed."

"Clearly but…." He looks off in the distance and he feels a sudden sense of loss.

"I don't want to lose you, Vic." He admits to her.

"You think getting married will keep me here?"

"Not exactly." He says.

"What then."

"I don't know."

She sighs deeply and she turns in his arms. "It doesn't mean that I don't love you."

His jaw clenches and relaxes, "You know I don't understand that."

"Yes, you do. You just have to accept it."

"Ok, Vic." He says and she kisses his cheek and goes inside.

They stick to the game plan and prep and cook. He leaves without saying a word and comes back with two bunches of wild flowers and hands them to her.

"These are beautiful, Walt."

He smiles but there is a face full of pain looking back at her.

"Do you have something I can put these in?"

"I'll be right back."

He comes back with two old coffee tins and takes the flowers form her.

"I'll fill 'em up with dirt and put the flowers on top. It'll help keep the tablecloths from blowing up from the table."

She smiles. "Thank you."

"Welcome." He offers a half-smile back.

Their guests arrive on time and hugs go 'round. Amy gives Vic a kiss on the cheek and teases her about how good looking Walt is and they laugh and chide like two long lost girlfriends.

Walt grills the burgers and hot dogs without any help and cooks the steaks to order. Henry compliments him privately on the craftsmanship of the finished bathroom.

"Is she moving in?" He asks him double checking the steaks.

He shakes his head and doesn't answer right away, "I don't think so." He finally says with his head down.

"That is interesting."

He looks at his best friend, "Why's that interesting?"

"Clearly, she is in love with you." His face is stern as if he is perplexed by the puzzle before him.

"She refused me, Henry."

"So, you have asked her to marry you?"

"Yup." He says busying himself with the food and not making eye contact.

"There must be more to the story."

"Can you just drop it?"

"The same old, Walt."

His teeth grind back and forth.

"You have to fight for what you want, Walt. Have you not learned this lesson?"

He walks away and joins the others at the table. After they eat, liberal compliments are handed out to the chef. Amy helps Vic and Cady clean while the second round of beers is served.

Vic looks out and sees Walt introducing Damon and Melanie to Horse. The kids laugh and delight at the large gentle beast. Damon climbs onto Walt's back and hangs on giggling while Walt places Melanie on Horse's back. She pets his mane and squeals with delight.

Cady stands next to her, "He's really good with kids." She says and it startles her. Her only reaction is to smile. Her private thoughts remain her own.

Walt, with permission, takes the kids on a proper ride and when he leaves the conversation turns.

"I really thought he wasn't going to make it." Nick confesses, "But we didn't know what a tough bastard he is."

"That he is." Henry says.

"Tough or a bastard?" Vic says and they all laugh.

"I was scared." Vic admits and Cady squeezes her forearm.

"So was I but I'll never tell him that. He would just feel guilty about it." Cady says.

Henry shakes his head in agreement, "He carries our burdens though he should not."

The table is quiet and they look down at their hands or off into the distance anywhere but at each other.

Amy cuts the thickness, "Vic, do you have any names picked?"

She shakes her head, "Not yet."

"Does Walt want a boy?" She asks.

"He hasn't said."

She feels their eyes on her and while she can't confirm it by anything they have said or done she feels distinctly judged by them. She chalks it up to her own insecurities but she can't shake the feeling.

"More beer?" She asks popping up from the table.

"Sure." Nick says rescuing her.

Cady catches her in the kitchen. She smiles and says, "Vic, I need to apologize to you. I'm sorry for coming down so hard on you. I shouldn't have said those things."

Vic crosses her arms, "You were right. You are right."

"I'm just worried. I know what this town can do to people."

"I saw what it did to Branch. I think I have an idea."

Cady pulls her hair behind her ear but she doesn't look away.

"My dad really loves you." Her voice drags, "It's obvious and as much as I don't want to see him hurt he makes his own decisions."

"Do you think I want to hurt him?"

"No, but the situation, I think will end up hurting both of you."

"Ok look," Vic's voice lowers, "Is this 1925? We aren't in the dark fucking ages. I can have my baby without being married or whatever conventional rules people want to put on me."

"It's more than that, Vic surely you know that. The lawsuit, you're his subordinate, you're recently divorced, all the horrible things that happened last year. From outside appearances it adds up to problems and a lot of hurt for both of you."

"I think I know that Cady."

"Then how did you end up like this?"

She cuts her eyes, "Really, you want me to have this conversation with you?"

Cady shakes her head and doesn't reply.

They both look at each other, "Listen, all I wanted to do was apologize. I really am sorry."

"It's ok, Cady."

Cady steps forward, "Still friends."

"Of course." She says and adds, "I never told Walt about our conversation."

The wrinkles appear in her forehead, "I'd like to think that I'm as good a friend to you as you are to me."

They smile and Cady reaches out and touches her shoulder, "Thanks, Vic."

When Walt returns he lets them know that Mel, that's what he calls her now, wants a pony for Christmas.

"Thanks a lot." Laughs Amy.

"You're all welcome here anytime."

"You say that now. They can be a handful."

"They're great." His smile is wide and he's happy as he pops open a beer taking a long swig wiping his lips with his forearm. He looks at Vic and the smile stays. She moves over and sits on his lap and hugs him.

He wraps his arm around her and kisses her cheek as she buries her face into his neck.

"It is official." Henry says, "PDA and Walt Longmire. He laughs, "It is love."

"Shut up, Henry." He says in her ear and they all laugh.


	39. Chapter 39

They settle into each other after everyone leaves.

"Thank you for today." She says.

He pulls his fingers through his hair, "It was fun."

"I'm glad Henry and Cady could join us."

"Yup"

He takes her hand in his. "I think we should talk." His voice goes soft as if it will kill him to say what he is going to say.

"Yeah"

"I'm trying to do this day-by-day, Vic." He sighs and his lips part, "Um, what are we doing?"

"Committing to forever isn't what I'm doing?" She tells him.

There's no anger or pain really just gentle confusion and competing hearts.

"If I wasn't pregnant we wouldn't be talking about this."

He searches her features, "That's not really a fair thing to say."

"It's true."

"It's true we're going to have a baby."

"And"

He sighs, "I think it happened too fast, the baby I mean."

"You don't need to marry me to make me an honest woman, Walt."

"How do we get through this impasse?" His fingers loop through hers.

She shifts to her side, "I don't know."

"Vic, we have to be candid." He moves closer to her, "We love each other."

She nods her head agreeing with him.

"We live here. We'll have to face the scrutiny of this town."

"Are you asking me to change who I am to fit in?"

"Not necessarily."

"We have a problem then, Walt. I won't marry you to save your reputation or to save mine for that matter. Fuck them."

"Vic."

"I don't need to live here." There it is. The thing he fears most.

"I don't want you to leave."

"I won't get married to save face." She stretches her neck as she rolls it back around.

"That's not why I want you to marry me. It's because I figure that's what two people that love each other do."

"It's not that simple."

"Maybe it should be."

She leans in and kisses him, holding his face with her hands, and he kisses her back.

"I think maybe I should go home." She says against his lips.

"You know I want you to stay." He says back against her lips and kisses her again.

"We are going to fall into a place I've been before."

He doesn't move as he kisses her again. "What do you mean?"

"Sean." She says and he pulls his head back.

"I don't want to talk about stuff you don't feel comfortable with." She says.

"We have to move past it though…..both of us." He replies.

"I'm working on it, Walt."

"I know you are."

He kisses her, stopping her thoughts, and she responds in kind. The heat folds in and through them. She gasps for air when his tongue trails down her neck.

"Walt"

He grunts his response.

"We always made up with sex. When I was married I mean. I don't want that for us."

He looks at her. His eyes are dark with desire.

"Were we fighting?" He kisses her.

She smiles into his mouth and then kisses him pushing her body against his. She feels between his legs and he groans and puts his hand over hers keeping it there.

"See what you do to me." He whispers, "You can't tell me I don't love you."

"I know you do." She pushes further into him and he pulls her closer. The deeper they kiss, the brassier they become. The more she feels him, the louder her inner voice tells her to leave. She doesn't want to become beholden to this or to him. She's never known love like this and when she pulls back the curtain she is a little scared of it and of him.

She retreats from him gradually. She looks at him in part disbelief because his eyes convey all that he feels inside. His intensity is combustible and consuming.

"I need to go." She tells him.

His face falls but he doesn't pressure her or act mortally wounded, "Ok, Vic."

He keeps his arms around her, "That will never be us you know."

He leans forward, his chest pressing into her breasts, "I'll always want to make love to you no matter what not just to make up."

She kisses him and stands up. He stands with her and puts his hand down his jeans adjusting himself. She blushes and that surprises him. It's all she can do to leave. She doesn't want to lose herself in him. It's taken over three decades to get to this place. She's finally worked it out. She knows she has to love herself before she can truly love him. The way she needs to love him. She won't give it up for a hot hard-on or a Sheriff's election no matter how much she wants him.

He walks her to her truck, "Will you call me when you get home?"

She shakes her head. He wraps her up and kisses her before he opens the door for her and she thanks him for a beautiful day.

When she begins to drive away, he smiles and moves his fingers off of the window seal. He waves low down by his waist and she yells out of the window, "Don't waste that."

His face balloons red, "We don't have to waste it." He yells back.

Her smile widens and before she hits the pavement she begins to cry. She's not sad. She's not upset. She's done something that is solely for her the very first time in her life. She stood her ground.

He takes a cold shower and thinks about her.

She calls him as promised. "I'm home."

"How are you feeling?" He asks.

"Like I wish I stayed."

He presses the phone closer to his ear, "Me too."

She sighs and holds her eyes closed, "I do love you."

"I know."

His voice gets deeper and it sends a chill down her spine even through her iPhone, "I love you, too."


	40. Chapter 40

She showers and settles into bed checking Pinterest baby room ideas on her iPhone. She hurts. But she made the right decision for herself and ultimately for them. It triumphs over any regret of temporary satisfaction with her lover.

He sits on the side of his bed vacillating over his decision. Weighing the risks. Talking himself into it. It's more than that. He realizes it immediately. It is part of what makes him a man; the man that he is.

She falls asleep and her phone rolls onto the bed next to her. She never feels the vibration of the intermittent buzzing. It's why she misses his call. There are parts of him that he has no interest in changing. He thinks about that and what he can change as he parks in the dark and waits .His hypervigilance has blossomed since his kidnapping. His concern for her is only exacerbated by the conditions that precede them.

He stands in the light and knocks. He knocks again conscious of not sounding like the police. His heart lurches when he thinks she may not be home. After all she called from her cell and she didn't answer it when he called back. It's not jealously. It's the panic you feel when you feel like a fool. His stomach clenches. His face flushes and just as he turns he hears the distinguishable sound of her Glock racking a round in the chamber on the other side of the door.

"Vic." He says and moves back into the light, "It's me."

She unlocks and unchains the door. Her hair is mussed and her Ryan Howard Phillies V-neck tee is worn with a hole at the hem. She's unabashedly beautiful to him.

"What's wrong?" She says holding her firearm at her side.

"You're what's wrong." He says stepping into her. She smells him and she hears her breath escape her body. He's forceful and focused as he walks her back into the threshold. She wraps her arms around his neck, responding to him, and hits him in the head with the butt of her gun.

"Shit. I'm sorry." She says

"That's alright." He answers pressing his fingers to his head.

She bolts and chains the door and sets her gun down on the side table.

"I called. I left a message." He says.

"What did you say?" She says moving closer landing her fingertips on the edge of his belt.

He lowers his lips just above hers, "I'm listening."

She sinks the edge of her fingers just inside of his pants and shakes her head.

"I'm hearing what you're saying." He licks his lips but she doesn't think it's on purpose it's more like his lips are dry but it lights the spark.

"You could have told me tomorrow."

He twists his finger into the hole in her shirt, "It's hard to sleep without you, Vic."

"You don't have sleeping on your mind."

His eyelashes look ridiculously long, "I do." He says and he brushes her bangs with his finger. "I'm thinking how I want you to sleep next to me every night for the rest of your life and how I want to wake up next to you every morning for the rest of my life."

He leans down and kisses the side of her neck and presses his cheek next to hers. She sinks into the hardness of his body, his strength, and comfort of predictability.

"I'll wait however long it takes." He whispers in her ear and his voice travels down her entire body, "because I'm incredibly in love with you and you're worth more than an election or a title."

She's on him and they fall to the couch. She straddles him and his hands hold her hips. Their hands are everywhere and she has his belt unbuckled and his buttons nearly undone when she stops.

He doesn't say anything he just studies her eyes.

"I'm listening too." She says and she pulls his fingers into hers and leads him into her bedroom, "You want to wake up with me let's wake up in bed."

He smiles. His hair is mussed. She nearly gasps at how beautiful he is as she steps into him, "We can work toward forever if it's day-by-day." She says into his mouth just before she kisses him.

"I need time, Walt." She says when they come up for air.

"Henry told me house husbands are fashionable." He smiles and it's devious.

She laughs, "Fuck that." She kisses him again.

"I can do it." He smiles into her neck as he nibbles there.

"And have all the mom's trying to fuck you. I don't think so." His hands are under her shirt and she groans. He presses into her and they fall onto the bed. It's hot. It's sweaty. It's loud.

It's perfect.


	41. Chapter 41

That's how it is with them. The fire stays hot between them as it should for new lovers. As the weeks pass, they are inseparable, and one afternoon she finds a house key on her desk without a note or a word said and neither are necessary. She slips it on her keyring and that night he scrubs her back in the tub. The love pours from him and not only does she feel it she receives it.

He marvels at her ability to close old cases and solve the occasional petty theft crime from the office. Her mouth is as deadly as her sidearm. Her belly begins to swell with the shift in the weather and if anyone in town has anything to say they keep it to themselves but he notices the extra-long stares and the quiet whispers. Just after the 4th of July annual county barbeque he leaves town to attend the sentencing hearing. They talk about the implications and she knows he needs to go alone. It's his way. He needs to be his own man. She loves him for it.

They sit by the fire, his head in her lap, her fingers stroke his hair, as he reads to the baby. They have gone through a dozen Raggedy Ann and Andy books over time. Afterward, they look through popular names by decade on her laptop. His arm is around her, their legs pressed together, the constant contact is a distinct unspoken requirement for them both.

"Notice that Walter is not on the list of any decade?" She teases.

"I'm not a common man why should I have a common name." He retorts and they both laugh until she silences him with a kiss.

She looks at him, her palm comfortably resting on his thigh, "Do you really want to name our son Walter? It's ok with me if you do."

He shakes his head, his eyes a little misty, "No, I don't think so. If we are going to live here, Vic it will be hard to be a junior."

"You don't think he can live up to it?"

"More like an unnecessary cross to bear."

She strokes his face, "What's wrong?" She asks.

"Nothing." He says and his eyes mist a little more.

"Vic" He says. His voice is soft but deep. He drops to one knee in front of her and moves her laptop to the side.

Her eyes widen.

His fingers tremor when he takes her hand in his.

"Listen." He says as if she's not hanging on every word, "I can't imagine a day without you, Vic." He sighs because he's nervous but he's confident in what he's saying.

"I love you." He says and his eyes grow full. He takes out a black box and opens it to reveal a simple silver ring with a small diamond.

"Will you marry me?" He asks.

Her eyes involuntarily drop tears, "My dad." Is all she says and he tells her, "I asked him in July. I flew to Philadelphia after the hearing. He gave me his permission."

"In July?" Her head turns.

"At the hearing, I realized that all of it meant nothing without you. You support me being my own man. That I need you and that I never asked you properly. I wasn't loving you the way you needed to be loved with honor and respect. That's what I explained to your father and that's what I will do every day for the rest of my life."

She shakes her head, "Yes." She says and he slips the ring on her finger.

"I had it sized up but we can size it down after the baby." He says referring to her slightly swollen fingers.

"I love you." He says and kisses her deeply.

"I love you, Walt."

He's tender and he's slow as they make love with each other. The next morning she tells him, "I want to keep my name."

"Hyphen?" He asks.

"I can do that."

He smiles.


	42. Chapter 42

"Are you making a guest appearance today?" She asks.

His hands surrender in the air, "Oh no." He shakes his head.

Her lips plump just before she kisses him. Their arms wrap loosely around each other and they stand in the kitchen pressed together. It is a position they find themselves in often and as her belly grows he keeps her close to him. They work out the details of the day which aren't many but are important.

"There's sandwich fixings in the fridge so you guys will have food for lunch." She says.

"Thank you." He says, "I figure we'll be finishing up today."

"I got you corned beef. Henry and Nick turkey and Bob strikes me as a ham guy."

"Hmmm" He says, his lips vibrate, against hers.

"Oh, hey, can we pick up the paint tomorrow?"

"Finally. Did you go with blue or green?"

She twists her mouth, "The blue you liked."

He grins, "You are so traditional."

She smacks his butt and he adds, "Don't deny it, Vic." He laughs and teases her then nibbles her neck.

"Don't start." She says, "I'll don't want to be late."

He groans into her neck instead and her head goes back, "You feel so good." She says and her lips meet his.

Her statement is casual, "I'll be home for dinner."

"Home?" His eyes brighten.

"You know what I mean."

"It will be soon."

"You're my home."

"Always." He says.

She arrives early to help Cady finish with the refreshment trays.

"Thank you for organizing all of this Cady." She puts her hand on her stomach after feeling the baby move.

"You're welcome." Her eyes are bright and wide, "It's been a lot of fun, actually."

"Oooh." She says as the baby kicks.

"What's wrong?" Cady asks a bit concerned.

"The baby kicked." She says, "You want to feel him?"

She's hesitant at first and she passively places her hand on her stomach. The baby kicks again, the smile erupts on Cady's face.

"Have you picked a name, yet?" Her voice is soft and ingratiating.

She shakes her head.

"We're going to have a blast. Me and him." Cady says warmly.

Vic relaxes as she reminds herself that her family is expanding and that's alright with her. They've grown as close as can be expected the past months. Their friendship solidified after Vic inadvertently heard Cady dressing down the tax assessor who said one to many snide comments after one too many beers at the Pony. It's another story about Cady that she didn't tell Walt. This time she wanted to keep the secret to herself because it was special to her. Cady the defender.

Ruby gives her a gentle hug when she opens the door for her.

"Vic, I have something here for you and Walter." She says and hands her an envelope.

"You didn't rob a bank did you?" She jokes and the older woman laughs. She does that a lot now. Now that Walt is happy.

"Gosh no." The smile stays on her lips, "I didn't want to go around and around with Walter, but I drew up all the FMLA paperwork and his paternity leave."

Vic rolls her eyes, "Paternity leave. Yeah, he would give you shit about that."

"But he would still take the time off."

"Exactly."

She hugs her a little firmer this time. "Thank you, Ruby. It's a wonderful present."

"Well, that's his present. I have yours in the car."

Vic looks past her shoulder out of curiosity.

"It's a car seat hon from me and Ferg. I didn't want to drag that big ol' box out only to drag it back to your truck later."

"Ah, thank you, Ruby."

The guests trickle in and Cady makes an announcement that the big gift is due for delivery any minute. Vic's embarrassment is only matched by her excitement.

"Hey, no strippers!" She says making fun of her awkwardness.

"We're about 8 months too late for that." Dorothy says and the door knock is nearly drowned by the laughter.

Cady answers the door and Vic looks up to see her perfectly coifed mother standing in the door frame.

"Mom." She says and her watery eyes are instant.

"I wouldn't miss this for the world." Lena says as she hugs her daughter.

"My dad and I conspired." Cady says with her perfect Longmire smile.

A sea of ooohs and aaaahs flows from the guests and they go about the traditions of a baby shower. Vic is nearly dumbfounded that she is not only participating in nonsensical games of crossed legs and clothes pins but she is actually having fun. Amy leans into her shoulder and tells her that Nick offers man support for Walt when he needs to get away and they laugh together.

"Are you getting scared?" Amy asks.

"A little bit."

"You'll be alright."

"I think so."

"You have lots of friends to help."

Vic surveys the room as the realization sinks in that she does have friends. Some of them share the same genetic coding while others are family by proxy but all of them care about her and love her.

After the party, they load her truck with all of the gifts and Lena rides shotgun while Amy follows her home to retrieve her husband.

"I've never seen you like this." Lena says.

"I've never been pregnant, Mom."

"No, Victoria that's not what I mean." She pauses and touches her thigh.

She turns quickly to look at her, "I'm finally happy."

When they pull into the open space in front of the cabin Nick hops off the porch and kisses his wife, "We finished the room."

"Let's go see." Amy says and turns to Vic. The two women go into the cabin, a place she never thought would be her home, and admires the carpentry work Nick and Bob as they unload the truck of gifts.

Walt's hair is mussed and his t-shirt half-tucked and half-untucked in his jeans. He looks good. He smiles when he sees her. He wraps his arms loosely around Lena and gives her a hug. She hugs him back and Vic swears she cops a feel.

"John came over and signed off on the inspection," He says as he walks over to kiss Vic hello. He holds his palm on her stomach. "Was he kicking all day?"

"He relaxed after I ate two pieces of cake." She says.

She glides her hand along the fresh logs, "John came by on a Saturday?"

"Yeah, said it was his gift to us."

"Who knew he was sentimental."

"Most of the people here are decent, Vic."

"It says a lot about you." She says facing him. Her fingertips land on is stomach just above his navel. He kisses her cheek and whispers that he loves her.

"Hey look." He points, "This was Nick's idea."

He shows her the built in changing table they fashioned.

"You just latch it closed. The chains on the side will hold it when we change the baby. He got the idea from a desk he built at his house."

"That's awesome." She says and yells, "Thanks, Nick."

"You're welcome." He yells back.

She asks them to stay for dinner but Amy and Nick leave because of their drive back home. Henry helps Lena cook and Bob helps her clean afterward. He flirts with her and she soaks up the attention. Vic shows them the turquoise earrings she bought Cady as a thank you gift and they all approve. Walt and Henry laugh as if time stood still for them. They drink Coke's so Bob won't feel weird about his sobriety.

She never dreamed of this. Spending time with her mom and being this happy. When they settle for the night Walt brags to Lena that she is the first to sleep in the new sofa bed. She likes that factoid.

Walt presses his side into Vic's, their bodies touch from head to toe and she says, "We have to pick a name, Walt."

"We have to pick godparents." He says.

"Do you want to ask Henry? She asks.

"I've thought about it but he's my age and if something happened to me I don't know if it would be fair to him."

"Henry will live to be a 100." She turns her head, "and so will you."

He turns on his side facing her, propping his head on his palm, "I want to grow old with you."

"You will." She assures him.

"How about Michael?" He asks.

"My brother?"

"Yeah, he would be perfect."

Her forearm rests on her forehead and she looks at him. "I'll talk to him."

"Cady can't be a sister and a godmother." She says.

"Cady"

"She would take care of her brother, Walt. I know it."

He scratches his five o'clock shadow. "Do you want me to talk to her?"

She nods her head and he kisses her cheek and moves toward her ear.

"I just have to paint the crib tomorrow. A crib and a bassinet. This kid is going to be spoiled." He says softly, "Then let's decide."

"I never thought I could be this happy especially with my mom." She says.

"She loves you, Vic. Your entire family loves you."

He rubs her tummy in soft circles and it feels good.

"I'm glad she's here and I never thought I would say that."

"She's pretty excited to be here. Don't let her fool you."

"Did she pinch your ass earlier?"

He grunts, "I think so."

She sighs, "I'm sorry, Walt."

"I'm just irresistible to Moretti women."

"It's a good thing I have brothers then." She says, "Thank you for helping Cady make this all happen"

"You're welcome." He says.

She kisses the man she loves goodnight and silently prays for an eternity of nights just like this one.


	43. Chapter 43

She waits until he leaves for work and tells her mother about his proposal while they are drinking coffee from his non-matching set of mugs. Lena smiles and tells her she has known since July and fills in the pieces of the story that Walt left out. How he asked her father but also asked her after reassuring her that no matter what he would love and care for Vic and the baby.

"I told him you needed to be a free bird, dear."

"What the hell."

"You have to be free, Vic. You are your own woman and you always have been."

"I think he understands that."

"That's easy to say but hard to do. I get the impression he's never been asked or expected to acquiesce to anyone let alone his wife."

She drinks her coffee and savors every sip. She's disciplined herself to one cup a day to limit her caffeine intake.

"He's really good to me."

Lena looks back and says, "Your skin is glowing, Vic."

"Ah, it's all the vegetables, all the fruit, and all the water."

"I'm glad you're taking care of yourself."

"That's my point, really, he cooks when I'm tired. He built the small greenhouse out back so I would always have something fresh and healthy."

Her face brightens and she gets a little excited, "He's a dichotomy. He's this rough hard edged small town Sheriff but he reads Shakespeare and Shelley and Keats. He reads to the baby every night. He's hard and soft all at once."

"You love him?"

"Yes."

"You loved Sean."

"I did, mom but I'm in love with Walt, and now I know there is a difference."

"So you're living together?"

She shakes her head, "Not the way you're inferring."

She smiles recalling his proclamation that he loves having her near, waking up with her next to him, and how she feels the same way. How she manages to feel autonomous even when she is with him.

"We are either here or at my house."

"Have you set a date for the wedding?"

She shakes her head and watches her mother's face reveal all of the disapproval she's not verbalizing. Looking toward the bedroom door she says, "Mom, are you seriously trying to give me shit for sleeping in the same bed with him last night?"

"I didn't say anything, Victoria."

She laughs, "Well don't. It's his house. It's his rules."

Lena turns her head and smiles refusing to reveal her amusement.

When she drops her mother at the airport she puts her arms around her and tells her she loves her and Lena promises to come and help when the baby is born.

"Tell Walt not to let anyone sleep in my pull out bed because I will be back to help, dear."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

She walks toward the entry and the automatic sliding doors open. She stops, turns around, and looks back at Vic. She says, "I'm proud of you honey. I'm so happy for you."

Vic waves back, her hand on her tummy, and he eyes well. When her mom turns away from her she puts her fingers to her mouth hiding her quivering lips. She's never heard those words before all strung together from her mother. It hits her like a ton of bricks.

She walks into his office and his head is buried in paperwork. He looks up and his face breaks into a smile when he sees her. She walks over and he stands to meet her. She kisses his lips and it's soft and a little long.

"Your Mom get to the airport ok?"

She shakes her head, "Said she would be back when the baby is born."

"Good." He says.

She sits on his desk facing him, his hand rests on her thigh, his blue eyes are bright, "Vic." He says her name sternly like when he's afraid she's going to walk out on him.

She looks at him and waits. She's learned to let him do it his way though it's slow and sometimes awkward.

"It's only one o'clock." He says.

"And?"

She can feel the warmth radiating from his palm so she puts her hand over his to keep it there.

"Come with me to City Hall. Let's get the license. Judge Thompson is in chambers."

"You want to get married today?" She says her voice a little high.

"I've wanted to get married a long time ago." He gives her that short nervous smile. "But it'll stick now."

He can read her doubts. It took her a long time to trust him but once she did she revealed herself to him. What he discovered made him love her more.

His legs open as he moves closer to her wrapping his other hand around her hip.

"We can get married again in church in Philadelphia with your family about you." He says.

The back of her fingers caress his face, "I miss them."

"I know you do."

"Could we just do a reception instead? In Philadelphia, I mean, maybe next year?"

"We can do whatever you want."

He leans forward and kisses her stomach then presses up and kisses her lips. It turns, like it always does, into something beyond passionate. It's like they're thirsty and never get enough water.

She takes a breath and says next to his mouth, "We better get over to City Hall."

The edges of his mouth circle up as he threads his fingers through her hand, "Let's go."

Walt greets the Clerk and they both sign. The license was waiting for them. She looks at him confirming is shenanigans. She waits until they are in the Bronco before she says anything.

"What was that?"

"I asked Charlotte to type it up in July. She just put the date in today."

She smiles because she really does love him and there's something attractive about his anxiousness.

Judge Thompson is on the tail end of spraying his office with air freshener when they walk-in to his chambers.

"Ah." He says, "Trying to get rid of my illegal pipe smoke." He doesn't laugh.

The freshener isn't helping.

"You two finally ready to tie the knot." He says a little too loud.

Walt replies with his standard, "Yup."

"You got your license, there?"

Vic hands him the license. He pulls his glasses on with both hands and inspects the document. He opens his hard green covered notary book and writes, in cursive, takes their thumb prints and signs the book. He slams it closed as if the ink needs to set and maybe it does by looking at the pen he's using.

His bespectacled eyes survey them, "Grace over at the Kum n Go won the pool by the way."

Walt's eyebrows crunch, "What?"

"The pool. The town pool if it would be a civil or church ceremony."

"What the fuck?" She says.

"Here now." Judge Thompson objects with his natural authoritarianism.

"You could buy spots. Pick a date on the calendar. Lost five dollars." He says.

Walt's mouth twists. "You ready your honor?" He grits his jaw.

He clears his throat, "Sure am."

When he slides the jacket on her finger it fits her ring perfectly. Their promises are firm and their love is evident. The old cantankerous judge softens just a bit and he confesses, "There's a second pool." He says just after the words are done.

They study his face.

"If you were going to make an honest woman of her before the kid was born."

Walt's jaw is tight and Vic lets loose because she's Vic, "Fuck them. Fucking assholes it's none of their damned business what we do or don't do."

Judge Thompson doesn't object this time. Walt looks at his wife and winks. She smiles at his effective disarmament.

"How much did you lose on that one?" He asks.

The judge anchors his thumbs in the pockets of his waistcoat and strands as straight as he can, "That one I did not play."

Walt extends his hand and they shake hands.

"Thank you for the generosity of your time, sir."

"You are welcome."

He nods his head, "Mrs. Longmire."

She looks at Walt and winks, returning the disarming favor, "Thank you, Judge."

When he closes his door to the Bronco he leans over and kisses her, "Mrs. Longmire?" He asks. His voice is velvety.

She looks at him, "His mind is 1895, Walt. I didn't want you to be embarrassed."

"I'm not embarrassed." He says.

He takes her hand, "Mrs. Moretti-Longmire."

As he pulls away from the curb they both realize how far they have come; giving and taking but always for the benefit of the other.

"Walter Alessandro." She says.

"Alessandro?"

"It's Italian. Means defender of men." She says, "He is your son after all."

He looks at her for a moment then his eyes stay on the road as the name rolls around in his brain.

"We can call him Alex." She says. "Alex Longmire."

"Walter?" He questions.

"Yes, Walter." She looks at him, "I'll always have a part of you with him even his name."

His features soften. "W.A.L., those initials aren't so bad."

"Look good on a belt buckle."

"That they would." He smiles, "That they would."


	44. Chapter 44

She didn't panic like she thought she would and he panics a little more than he thought he would. In the matter of a month, Alex was shortened to Al, and proves to be quiet like his father except when he is hungry and he shows off the chops his mother gave him.

"He's gonna be a scrapper." She tells Walt while feeding him one night before bed.

He smiles and stacks the laundry, "Yup."

Walt wakes up in the middle of the night to feed and change the baby. He washes up and crawls back into bed next to her. His damp hand wrestles part of the sheet and they begin a gentle tug of war.

"Come keep me warm then." He says, "Since you don't want to share the sheet."

She's still half-asleep but he's irresistible. She presses next to him, her arm falling over his waist, "You happy now?"

He grunts and pulls her arm tighter around him, "Are you?" He asks.

She kisses the firm flesh above his shoulder blade, "Yeah."

He begins to stir under the feel of her touch and a slight uncontrollable groan slips from his lips.

"Just a couple more weeks." She whispers in his ear.

He squeezes her hand tighter, "I'm not worried about that."

"By the sound of it you are."

"I like you touching me." His eyes blink and take a moment longer to open realizing that the truth is so easy now and while it scares him it also pleases him.

"I like touching you." She says and brushes her lips past his neck. "But you know that."

He turns to face her. The tips of his fingers make their way over her cheek and down past her neck. Their lips connect and his stomach tightens from the instant shock of their connection. Her eyes search his and they find what they are looking for; the love he possesses stares back at her.

"I know it's too soon." He says as she leans into him feeling the hardness of his desire pressed against her thigh.

"I know we have to wait but I know some other things." She smiles against his warm check. Her breath swirls around his ear.

He mutters something she can't make out but it doesn't matter as his lips find hers again and her hands explore his body. A body, she still can't believe is committed only to her. Afterward, they sleep pressed against each other until the dawn inches in waking the baby.

She makes breakfast and fills his thermos.

"You getting antsy?" He asks his voice still deep and gritty.

"I need to get the fuck out of the house." She says as only she can.

Walt looks at his watch, then over to the baby, and twists his lips as he looks at his wife. He jerks his head toward the bedroom door, "Go get dressed."

"For what? You're going to work. Lucky bastard."

"So are you. Come with me."

"I can't bring the baby to work."

"Says who? Your boss?"

"Shut up."

He steps forward and snakes his arm around her waist. "Come on."

On the drive to town she tucks her hair behind her ear and turns toward him.

"We're fucked." She says and silently chastises herself because she really is trying to clean up her language.

He flips a quick look, his face stern and serious. "What?"

"How am I going to stay home, Walt? I'm going to go crazy. I'll drive you crazy. Our kid will be certifiable by time he gets to kindergarten."

His lips don't part. His best poker face is on display. Her heart stops just for a moment because she cares what her man thinks. This is their life but this is a big bombshell. This isn't what he expected so soon and what she thought she could deliver.

They hit a dip in the road and Al coos and she instinctively checks to make sure he's fine in his car seat and he continues to grip the soft lanyard Henry made for him oblivious to what is passing between his parents and the changes that his existence has brought for them.

Walt takes a while before he says anything but it's not because he's being an asshole. He knew this day would come. He never doubted it just as he never thought she was disingenuous. She wants them to make it and that is enough for him. He wants them to make it too. Vic thinks about pressing him but in their time together she's learned to give him space. At first, it was hard to wait for him. She would yell. She would chide him into a reaction and one day it dawned on her that if she could just be patient she would get his truth and they would eliminate a lot of apologies out of their lives.

"I won't have our son raised by daycare." He says, "That's the only thing that's not negotiable."

She turns to face him; her hand hangs down from the sissy bar, "Ok."

"I'm too young to retire. So I can't draw my pension."

She waits for him because she knows if there's this much it means there's more.

"We can sell your house to make ends meet until I can find some other work, like consulting maybe?",

"You would do that, Walt? Give up being Sheriff."

"It's not giving up anything I'm gaining my family."

"That makes me feel like an asshole."

He turns and looks at her and then back at the road, "Why?"

"Because, I can't do the same. If I could we wouldn't be in this situation."

He's quiet.

"I don't want our son raised by daycare either not if we have a choice or I think we do." She says.

"Vic," His hand re-wraps around the steering wheel, "I don't want to stop working. I don't think I can but I don't have to be Sheriff. I just need to work."

"We planned on keeping the house for Al's college fund."

Walt smacks his lips.

"We can take out a second mortgage, put it in savings, and draw on it until you find something."

"It's an idea." He says, "Besides, I'll probably lose the next election anyway with all that's happened. This way I can leave on my own terms."

She looks down at her hiking boots, "I'm sorry, Walt." She feels an unexpected knot in her throat.

"There's nothing to be sorry for. It is what it is."

An overwhelming sense of sadness begins to consume her. "Do you think you'll lose because of me?"

He maintains his lane as he looks at her, "No." He shakes his head, "and even if it did you would be worth it a thousand times over."

She studies the palm of her hand for the rest of the drive feeling the full weight of loving and being loved by this man.


	45. Chapter 45

**A little mature but not too explicit. Fair warning**

* * *

Six weeks later, their clothes are half-off, when she asks him to fuck her. He isn't surprised by her request but his immediate reaction and singular mission to please his wife alarm his inner sanctum. He can't live without her. He knows that now. With each kiss comes the sobering reality that she is an equal match in every way. Their spirits are intertwined and dependent on the other. There's nothing she could ask that he wouldn't die trying to do for her and he allows his soul to be exposed even if for glimpses at a time because he is only for her.

"I don't want to hurt you." His words land sweet and soft in her ear as his kisses continue to lay down her jaw to her neck.

Her eyes penetrate his, "You aren't." She says and their lips mash and fold together building the heat between them.

He's slow and deliberate taking all of her with his senses. She folds and molds into his body but he can feel an extra edge to her passion if that's even possible. He wraps his arm below her waist and pulls her onto him as he rests on his back pulling her wrists into his chest.

"Vic." He looks at her fully, "We'll do what you want."

"No." She says and his fingers float through her hair and he trails down her arm back to his chest.

His chest rises to meet hers and his tongue brushes her lips, "I love you." He says as his arms wrap around her waist and he pulls her into him.

"Walt." Her hands collapse on either side of his face, she feels his sideburns peak through her fingers, his smooth skin glistens from the first blushes of passion between them. "I fucking need you."

He grunts and smiles at the same time, her tongue slides into his welcoming mouth, and he pulls her harder wanting to deepen the kiss between them and she does and when she pulls back to take in the necessary air to sustain life she says, "I love you, Walt."

"I never knew you could love me so much." She says as she wraps her fingers around him and he catches his breath and thrusts upward as she guides him inside of her. Her body shudders at their reconnection and her muscle memory savors the feel and shape of him.

The momentary suspension of time and void of light make her a little dizzy. She suddenly becomes aware of the smile that has formed on her face and her body eases into him. His hands wrap around her rib cage and move up to cover her breasts as they fill his palms. He's careful of their sensitivity but he can't resist the soft fullness under his hands. Though years of conditioning have taught him to close his eyes he no longer does with her. He wants to soak in every inflection, rise of brow, and expression of her pleasure.

He controls her pace as the smooth heat builds between them and he presses his hands against her hips and stops her momentum as he wraps his arms around her filling her neck with flutters and kisses.

She knows he stops her because he wants to elongate their reunion. He doesn't want it to end. Not yet. He presses against her chest and his face rests against her breast. Her heart beats in his ear and their breath rises and falls together. He can feel her throbbing around him and it nearly sends him over the edge.

Vic looks down at him, pulling her fingers through his hair and grabbing the back of it, "Are you going to stop fucking around and fuck me?"

She's on her back before the last syllable leaves her lips and his thrusts are deep and slow and her back arches trying to meet him as she yearns and aches for him. Her stomach cramps a little from the fierceness of her orgasm and she has to catch her breath but she does and she can only softly say, "Yes" in his ear.

He pins her hands above her head as he strokes and sinks into her falling over the cliff with her. Their bodies lock together.

"You missed me." She says with a prideful full smile.

"Fuck yeah, I did." His face is serious and her smile grows wider at the rare scatological response from her otherwise composed husband.

Al cries from the other room and Walt rolls over and kisses her cheek, "I'll go." He says and she thanks him still wallowing in the after-glow. She unashamedly watches his nude form cross in front of the bed. She admires the flex of his muscles as he pulls on his boxers and ceremoniously snaps the soft elastic against his waist. Just before he crosses the threshold he looks at her, smiles, and winks.

She loves him of that she is certain.

* * *

~ The End ~


End file.
